Squirrels are often found in parks.
Their tails resemble question marks.
It's just coincidental though.
There's little squirrels care to know.
Post any poem here that you know by heart and no cheating!
Anonymous
4/18/2006
03:53:23 PM
Their tails resemble question marks.
It's just coincidental though.
There's little squirrels care to know.
Post any poem here that you know by heart and no cheating!
Anonymous
4/18/2006
03:53:23 PM
9 Comments:
While Stopping By The Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know
his house is in the village though
he will not see me stopping here
to watch his woods fill up with snow
my little horse must think it queer
to stop without a farmhouse near
between the woods and frozen lake
the darkest evening of the year
he gives his harness bells a shake
to ask if there is some mistake
the only other sound's the sweep
of quiet wind and downy flake
the woods are lovely, dark and deep
but I have promises to keep
and miles to go before I sleep
and miles to go before I sleep.
That one is easy though. The wind part I am not quite sure about.
I can only remember the first and last stanzas of this one for some reason:
If Still Your Orchards Bear
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Brother, who breathes the august air,
ten thousand years from now
and smells, if still your orchards bear
tart apples on the bough
(skip the entire rest of the poem)
I think you will have need of tears
I think they will not flow
supposing in ten thousand years
men ache, as they do now.
Also, I have the one I posted earlier memorized (except for the chorus and the dirge) but I won't repost those.
Everything else I know is fragments.
Haha, oh wait!
First Fig
Edna St. Vincent Millay
My candle burns at both ends
it will not last the night
but oh my foes, and oh my friends
it gives a lovely light!
Haha, but that's very short. Second Fig is even shorter, but I can't remember it >_<
The limerick is furtive and mean,
You must keep her in close quarantine
Or she sneaks to the slums
And promptly becomes
Disorderly, drunk, and obscene.
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
-e.e. cummings
one of my favorites.
There once was a man from Nantucket...
...who kept all his cash in a bucket.
His daughter named Nan
ran off with a man
And as for the bucket, Nan-tuk-it.
You all thought I was going to do the dirty one, didn't you?
I was hoping you'd give me another to add to my collection, Swalest'shooth. Oh well.
There once was a sailor named Tex
Who avoided premarital sex
By thinking of Jesus
And awful diseases
And spending his nights below decks.
Oh good, I like this one! In 6th grade my teacher made us memorize a few poems to recite to the class...thing brings back many memories :)
-----------------------------------
The Rainy Day
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
-----------------------------------
We Never Know How High We Are
by Emily Dickinson
We never know how high we are
Until we are called to rise.
And then if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the sky.
The heroism that we recite
Should be a daily thing.
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king?
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