My Lost Youth (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town And my youth comes back to me And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still A boys will is the winds will And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

The Gift Outright (Robert Froest Lee)

The land was ours before we were the land; She was our land more than a hundred years Before we were her people. She was ours In Massachusetts, in Virginia But we were England, still colonials Possessing what we still were unpossessed by Possessed by what we now no more possessed

 Something we were withholding made us weak Until we found out that it was ourselves We were withholding from our land of living And forthwith found salvation in surrender Such as we were we gave ourselves outright The deed of gift was many deeds of war To the land vaguely realizing westward But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced Such as she was, such as she would become, hath become

Fire and Ice (1920)(Robert Froest Lee)

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what Ive tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice

 Is also great And would suffice.

Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night (Dylan Thomas)

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; () Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

 Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 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.

Nothing Gold Can Stay(Robert Frost)

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

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