Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death!
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright, In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace.
Oh, to be in England Now that April 's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware,....
Is there for honest Poverty that hings his head, an' a' that; The coward slave-we pass him by, we dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, an' a' that our toils obscure an' a' that, The rank is but the guinea's stamp, the Man's the gowd for a' that.
So, we'll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright.
'You are old, father William,' the young man said, 'And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head — Do you think, at your age, it is right?'
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.
Macavity's a Mystery Cat--: he's called the Hidden Paw For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law. He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair: For when they reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
'Be advised my passport's green. No glass of ours was ever raised to toast the Queen.'
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin' fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
They went to sea in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter's morn, on a stormy day, In a Sieve they went to sea!
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go.
Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now!
Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;...
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
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