Crossing the street,
I saw the parents and the child
At their window, gleaming like fruit
With evening's mild gold leaf.
The Soul selects her own Society --
Then shuts the door -- ...
Love a child is ever criing,
Please him, and hee straite is flying,
Give him hee the more is craving
Never satisfi'd with having ...
That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold ...
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day ...
When my mother died I was very young ...
O Rose, thou art sick.
Be near me when my light is low ...
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full ...
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered cloak upon a stick ...
As if he had been poured
in tar, he lies
on a pillow of turf
and seems to weep
the black river of himself.
Authors: Wordsworth, James Merrill, Dickinson, Lady Mary Wroth, Shakespeare, Gray, Blake (twice), Tennyson, Arnold, Yeats, Seamus Heaney.