Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, And spills the upper boulders in the sun; And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. The work of hunters is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not…

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The Reading Mother

Strickland Gillilan (1869-1954) I had a mother who read to me Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea, Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth, “Blackbirds” stowed in the hold beneath I had a Mother who read me lays Of ancient and gallant and golden days; Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,…

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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost, 1922 Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods…

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The Cremation of Sam McGee

] by Robert W. Service, 1907 There are strange things done in the midnight sun ……….By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales ……….That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, ……….But the queerest they ever did see…

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The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God

by J. Milton Hayes, 1911 There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There’s a little marble cross below the town; There’s a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the Yellow God forever gazes down. He was known as “Mad Carew” by the subs at…

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My Country

by Dorothea Mackellar, 1904 The love of field and coppice, Of green and shaded lanes. Of ordered woods and gardens Is running in your veins, Strong love of grey-blue distance Brown streams and soft dim skies I know but cannot share it, My love is otherwise. I love a sunburnt…

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