Acquainted with the Night
(Robert Frost 1874-1963)
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
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Auguries of Innocence
(William Blake - 1757-1827)
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
(Robert Frost 1874-1963)
Whose woods these are I think I know.
My little horse must think it queer
He gives his harness bells a shake
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
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The Brook
(Alfred Lord Tennyson 1809-1892)
I come from haunts of coot and hern,
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Till last by Philip's farm I flow
I chatter over stony ways,
With many a curve my banks I fret
I chatter, chatter, as I flow
I wind about, and in and out,
And here and there a foamy flake
And draw them all along, and flow
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
I murmur under moon and stars
And out again I curve and flow
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