"The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
"Fog" by Carl Sandburg
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
"The Dance" by William Butler Yeats
Our hands touch and the sound is like thunder.
Our breath comes and goes.
Our hearts beat together and the sound is like thunder.
Our bodies touch and the sound is like thunder.
Our souls meet and the sound is like thunder.
"The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more."
"I Hear America Singing" by Walt Whitman
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing as he sails or rows, or as he draws in his net,
The farmer singing as he ploughs or reaps or mows his grass,
The mother-singer singing to her little ones,
The young mechanic singing as he goes to his work or comes from it,
The learned singing in the churches or on the Sabbaths,
The singing of the soldiers,
The singing, of the young mothers over their children,
The singing of the girls and women, the singing of the lads and boys,
The pausing in their labor, as the farmer stops his plough,
The singing in the orchards and fields and shops,
The varied carols I hear those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong.