Poets from works

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Can you name the Poets from works?

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QuotePoetPoem
Stone walls do not a prison makeTo Althea, From Prison
I heard a Fly buzz — when I died (Untitled)
The land was ours before we were the land'sThe Gift Outright
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despairOzymandias
I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to beThe Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
In silent night when rest I took // For sorrow near I did not lookVerses upon the Burning of our House, July 10th, 1666
Death be not proud, though some have called thee // Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soHoly Sonnet #10
How do I love thee? Let me count the waysSonnets from the Portuguese #43
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? // Thou art more lovely and more temperateSonnet #18
And though // We are not now that strength which in old days // Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we areUlysses
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, // Went home and put a bullet in his head. Richard Cory
The Rock cries out to us today, you may stand on me, // But do not hide your face.On the Pulse of Morning
QuotePoetPoem
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth // A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical nakedHowl
Beware the Fury of a Patient ManAbsalom and Achitophel
I am one // Who eats his breakfast, // Gazing at morning glories. (translation)(Untitled)
Poems are made by fools like me // But only God can make a treeTrees
hugest whole creation may be less // incalculable than a single kiss73 poems, #37
Good-bye, proud world! I’m going home: // Thou art not my friend, and I’m not thine.Good-Bye
O my Body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women, nor the likes of the parts of you; // I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the SoI Sing the Body Electric
Listen, my children, and you shall hear // Of the midnight ride of Paul RevereTales of a Wayside Inn
Nothing is stronger than habit (translation)Ars Amatoria
Time is the school in which we learn, // Time is the fire in which we burn.Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day
There is a place where the sidewalk ends // And before the street begins,Where the Sidewalk Ends

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Created Jun 17, 2010ReportNominate
Tags:poem, quote