Poem 10.Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms
`Now Art has lost its mental charms Spirit who lov'st Britannia's Isle
Poem by Sarah Fuller Flower Adams He Sendeth Sun, He Sendeth Shower He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower,
Poem. The Media By Mollie G. of Lexington Our eyes are wide open The media is a circus The welfare of our people Immorality pumped through the airwaves
The Poem. ByAnne Bradstreet . To My Dear and Loving Husband If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can. I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray. Then while we live, in love let's so persevere That when we live no more, we may live ever.
The poem. Langstone Hughes Cross And my old mother’s black If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back If ever I cursed my black old mother And wished she were in hell, I am sorry for that evil wish And now I wish her well My old man died in a fine big house. My ma died in a shack. I wonder where I’m going to die, Being neither white nor black?
The poem. Robert Frost. Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.
The poem. William Shakespeare (from As You Like It). The Seven Ages of Man All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything
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