To an Athlete Dying Young
The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high.
Death be not Proud
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow...
Do not go Gentle into that Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
Pied Beauty
Glory be to God for dappled things, For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow, For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls, finches wings
She Walks in Beauty
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all thats best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light
Sonnet 43
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace
Sonnet 130-3
My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damaskd, red and white,
