Line | Poem |
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day... | |
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves... | |
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary... | |
Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste... | |
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying... | |
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone... | |
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky... | |
Half a league, half a league, half a league onwards... | |
I met a traveller from an ancient land who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone... | |
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood... | |
The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite... | |
A free bird leaps on the back Of the wind and floats downstream... | |
The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms... | |
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume... | |
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... | |
He is stark mad, who ever says, That he hath been in love an hour... | |
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