Bonus: Poem Recommendations from the Subbies and Freshmen

 

Anything written by Amanda Gorman 

"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" (William Wordsworth)

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.

"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.

 

"The Peace of Wild Things" (Wendell Berry)

 

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

"The Raven" (Edgar Allen Poe) 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

            This it is and nothing more.”

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

            Darkness there and nothing more.

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

            Merely this and nothing more.

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

            With such name as “Nevermore.”

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

            She shall press, ah, nevermore!

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

 

"One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish" (Dr. Seuss)

One fish, Two fish, Red fish, Blue fish,
Black fish, Blue fish, Old fish, New fish.
This one has a little car.
This one has a little star.
Say! What a lot of fish there are.
Yes. Some are red, and some are blue.
Some are old and some are new.
Some are sad, and some are glad,
And some are very, very bad.
Why are they sad and glad and bad?
I do not know, go ask your dad.
Some are thin, and some are fat.
The fat one has a yellow hat.
From there to here,
From here to there,
Funny things are everywhere.
Here are some who like to run.
They run for fun in the hot, hot sun.
Oh me! Oh my! Oh me! oh my!
What a lot of funny things go by.
Some have two feet and some have four.
Some have six feet and some have more.
Where do they come from? I can't say.
But I bet they have come a long, long way.
we see them come, we see them go.
Some are fast. Some are slow.
Some are high. Some are low.
Not one of them is like another.
Don't ask us why, go ask your mother.

Say! Look at his fingers!
One, two, three...
How many fingers do I see?
One, two, three, four,
five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
He has eleven!
Eleven! This is something new.
I wish I had eleven too!

Bump! Bump! Bump!
Did you ever ride a Wump?
We have a Wump with just one hump.
But we know a man called Mr. Gump.
Mr. gump has a seven hump Wump. So...
If you like to go Bump! Bump!
Just jump on the hump of the Wump of Gump

Who am I? My name is Ned
I do not like my little bed.
This is no good. This is not right.
My feet stick out of bed all night.
And when I pull them in, Oh, Dear!
My head sticks out of bed up here!

We like our bike. It is made for three.
Our Mike sits up in back, you see.
We like our Mike, and this is why:
Mike does all the work when the hills get high.

Hello there, Ned. How do you do?
Tell me, tell me what is new?
How are things in your little bed?
What is new? Please tell me Ned.
I do not like this bed at all.
a lot of things have come to call.
A cow, a dog, a cat, a mouse.
Oh! What a bed! Oh! What a house!

Oh dear, oh dear! I cannot hear.
Will you please come over near?
Will you please look in my ear?
There must be something there, I fear.
Say look! A bird was in your ear.
But he is out. So have no fear.
Again your ear can hear, my dear.

My hat is old, my teeth are gold.
I have a bird I like to hold.
My shoe is off, my foot is cold.
My shoe is off, my foot is cold.
I have a bird I like to hold.
My hat is old, my teeth are gold.
And now my story is all told.

We took a look. We saw a Nook.
On his head he had a hook.
On his hook he had a book.
On his book was "How to Cook"
We saw him sit and try to cook
But a Nook can't read, so a Nook can't Cook.
SO...
What good to a Nook is a hook cook book?

the moon was out and we saw some sheep.
We saw some sheep take a walk in their sleep.
by the light of the moon, by the light of a star;
They walked all night from near to far.
I would never walk. I would take a car.

I do not like this one so well.
all he does is yell, yell, yell.
I will not have this one about.
When he comes in I put him out.
This one is quiet as a mouse.
I like to have him in the house.

At our house we open cans.
We have to open many cans.
and that is why we have a Zans.
A Zans for cans is very good.
Have you a Zans for cans? You should.

I like to box. How I like to box.
So every day I box a Gox.
In yellow socks I box my Gox.
I box in yellow Gox box socks.

It is fun to sing if you sing with a Ying.
My Ying can sing like anything.
I sing high and my Ying sings low.
And we are not too bad, you know.

this one, I think, is called a Yink.
he likes to wink, he likes to drink.
He likes to drink, and drink, and drink.
the thing he likes to drink is ink.
The ink he likes to drink is pink.
He likes to wink and drink pink ink.
SO...
If you have a lot of ink,
you should get a Yink, I think.

Hop, hop, hop! I am a Yop
All I like to do is hop,
From finger top to finger top.
I hop from left to right and then...
Hop, hop! I hop right back again.
I like to hop all day and night.
From right to left and left to right.
Why do I like to hop, hop, hop?
I do not know. Go ask your Pop.

Brush, brush, brush, brush
Comb, comb, comb, comb
Blue hair is fun to brush and comb.
All girls who like to brush and comb,
Should have a pet like this at home.

Who is this pet? Say! He is wet.
You never yet met a pet, I bet,
As wet as they let this wet pet get.

Did you ever fly a kite in bed?
did you ever walk with ten cats on your head?
Did you ever milk this kind of cow?
Well, we can do it. We know how.
If you never did, you should.
These things are fun, and fun is good.

Hello, hello. Are you there?
Hello! I called you up to say hello.
I said Hello.
Can you hear me, Joe?
Oh no, I cannot hear your call.
I cannot hear your call at all.
This is not good, and I know why.
A mouse has cut the wire, goodbye!

From near to far, from here to there,
Funny things are everywhere.
These yellow pets are called the Zeds.
They have one hair upon their heads.
Their hair grows fast. So fast they say,
They need a haircut every day.

Who am I? My name is Ish
On my hand I have a dish.
I have this dish to help me wish.
When I wish to make a wish
I wave my hand with a big swish swish.
Then I say, "I wish for fish!"
And I get fish right on my dish.
So...
If you wish to make a wish,
you may swish for fish with my Ish wish dish.

At our house we play out back.
We play a game called ring the Gack.
Would you like to play this game?
Come down! We have the only Gack in town.

Look what we found in the park in the dark.
We will take him home, we will call him Clark.
He will live at our house, he will grow and grow.
Will our mother like this? We don't know.

And now, Good night.
It is time to sleep
So we will sleep with our pet Zeep.
Today is gone. Today was fun.
Tomorrow is another one.
Every day, from here to there.
funny things are everywhere.