The Raven
EDGAR ALLAN POE Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgot…
We Wear the Mask
PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— This debt we pay to human…
Mock Orange
LOUISE GLÜCK It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard. I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the m…
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
WALLACE STEVENS I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. II I was of three…
Daddy
SYLVIA PLATH You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor a…
Because I could not stop for Death
EMILY DICKINSON Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Im…
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as f…
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