A Character

I marvel how Nature could ever find space For so many strange contrasts in one human face: There's thought and no thought, and there's paleness and bloom And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom. There's weakness, and strength both redundant and vain; Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease, Would be rational peace--a philosopher's ease. There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds, And attention full ten times as much as their needs; Pride where there's no envy, there's so much of joy; And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy. There's freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there, There's virtue, the title it surely may claim, Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name. This picture from nature may seem to depart, Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart; And I for five centuries right gladly would be Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he. William Wordsworth Meaning : This poem describes the dynamics of both society and the human character. When he talks about the contrasts of the human face, he is referring to both the faces we make in certain moods and the face of our personalities. He is fascinated with human personalities in that we can be happy one minute and depressed the next. He describes the ups and the downs, the full and the empty. When he marvel(s) how nature could ever find space for all the contrasts, he is thinking of the obvious dynamic variety in humans that is less obvious in nature. Of all the natural occurrences he has seen and been moved by, he now focuses on humans. Does this relate to yin and yang? Well absolutely! Yin and Yang represents that opposites are not only able to coexist, they must exist together in the same world. This picture effectively demonstrates that by blending the yin yang symbol over the earth, demonstrating that on (although not limited to) Earth, opposites must exist; every yin has its yang. But there is also part of yang in yin and part of yin in yang. Wordsworth says: There is thought and no thought One does not exist without the other, but there can never fully be a lack of thought and never be just thought. The two complete each other. He sees humans and both beautiful and flawed. There are flaws to beauty, and sometimes even flaws can be beautiful. In the opposites, Wordsworth goes on to describe opposites within opposites like when he talks about weakness and strength. Strength can be over used like in any movie where the superhero accidentally breaks something. Too much strength can lead to disaster; sometimes there is strength in restraint. When there is strength, but it is left unused or used correctly, it can be just as bad as when it is over used. Balance is necessary for everything.

In the last stanza, Wordsworth seems to be relating this to and experience from his own life. There was a woman who he loved, but she had another lover. Wordsworth thinks hes better for her. He says the man would ran away and leave her to continue to love him and grieve his absence. In the fourth stanza, he talks about how her lover not noticing her and the shame in not realizing what you have. He also talks about how his own virtue will come back and benefit him in the end (although, he probably hopes shell notice it). So pretty much, Wordsworth wrote this for the woman so she could realize she has made the wrong choice.

A Soldier
He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled, That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, But still lies pointed as it plowed the dust. If we who sight along it round the world, See nothing worthy to have been its mark, It is because like men we look too near, Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, Our missiles always make too short an arc. They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect The curve of earth, and striking, break their own; They make us cringe for metal-point on stone. But this we know, the obstacle that checked And tripped the body, shot the spirit on Further than target ever showed or shone. Robert Frost______________________________________
Beautiful is the 'thank you' Wrapped with gratitude, Offered to peace prone people Who go out of their way To nurse shrapnel scalded victims Amidst napalm drugged air, Carrying their humanity, quietly And humbly, in our Blood stained, greed diseased, Hate eaten world. Beautiful is the moment, When the heart indifferent To joy or sorrow, just trusts Whatever this life brings But finds time to just be.

By Yoonoos Peerbocus Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the Fairy Queen, To dew her orbs upon the green; The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours; In those freckles live their savours; I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. By William Shakespeare

A Prayer in Spring
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. And make us happy in the darting bird That suddenly above the bees is heard, The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, And off a blossom in mid air stands still. For this is love and nothing else is love, The which it is reserved for God above To sanctify to what far ends He will, But which it only needs that we fulfil. Robert Frost

The World Is Too Much With Us

By William Wordsworth The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bears her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! Id rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathd horn.

Daffodils
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; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils. William Wordsworth