Literature Quiz / Poetry: Before and After

Random Literature or Poem Quiz

Can you name the word that ends one line of poetry and begins the other?

Quiz Updated Dec 11, 2015

Score 0/20 Timer 10:00
Line 1WordLine 2
’Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing
to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any
night! Which put the candle out?
Do not go gentle into that good
funeral in Harlem: Where did they get them two fine cars?
Water, water, every where, nor any drop to
from the lake's glacial cup. Hope for better winters.
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I
, little pigeon, and fold your wings, --
little blue pigeon with velvet eyes.
I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a
at my window, window ____,
my sash is lowered when night comes on.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and
with toil, I haste me to my bed.
If you can keep your head when all about you are losing
but to do and die. Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred.
When I am an old woman I shall wear
as a king's cape, ____ as a grape.
Busy old fool, unruly
goes on shining while the debbil beats his wife
Let me, the selfish and the careless one, be housewife and a mother for
I can write the saddest lines.
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
the pulpit, faction seized the throne:
Experienced age in deep despair was lost.
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and
, I don't like you very well.
You don't suit my clothes or my cigarettes.
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and
is it some mornings your clothes just don't fit?
Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope,
being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to
springs eternal in the human breast;
man never is, but always to be blest.
Tread softly because you tread on my
, only ____ in the dusk, only the old remembered pictures...
O, my Luve's like a red, red rose, that's newly sprung in
was not over, though past the fall,
and the best of her roses had yet to blow.
I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my
and body have no bounds.
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
things fall apart; the centre cannot
fast to dreams, for if dreams die
life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders
of Soria, where it seems the stones have dreams, you go with me!

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