Upon Westminster Bridge
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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Earth hath not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul, who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
The city now doth, like a garment, wear.
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
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Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
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Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
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April Rain Song
Langston Hughes (1902-1967)
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Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.
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The Lake Isle of Innisfree
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
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I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
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And I will have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnets’ wings.
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I will arise and go now, for always night and day,
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
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More:
Do not BTW miss this recent diary about the radical, un-sanitized Langston Hughes: www.dailykos.com/...
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These fragments I have shored against my ruins. -- T.S. Eliot