QCE52B NIE Lit 2018

Think of   a sheep knitting a sweater; think of   your life getting better and better. Think of   your cat asleep in a tree; think of   that spot where you once skinned your knee. Think of   a bird that stands in your palm. Try to remember the Twenty-first Psalm. Think of   a big pink horse galloping south; think of   a fly, and close your mouth. If   you feel thirsty, then drink from your cup. The birds will keep singing until they wake up.

Funeral Blues Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The Moon By  Robert Louis Stevenson The moon has a face like the clock in the hall; She shines on thieves on the garden wall, On streets and fields and harbour quays, And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, The howling dog by the door of the house, The bat that lies in bed at noon, All love to be out by the light of the moon. But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

Fire and Ice BY  ROBERT FROST Some say the world will end in fire,  Some say in ice.  From what I’ve 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.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud BY  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 h...

Fossils by Ogden Nash At midnight in the museum hall The fossils gathered for a ball There were no drums or saxophones, But just the clatter of their bones, A rolling, rattling, carefree circus Of mammoth polkas and mazurkas. Pterodactyls and brontosauruses Sang ghostly prehistoric choruses. Amid the mastodontic wassail I caught the eye of one small fossil. "Cheer up, sad world," he said, and winked- "It's kind of fun to be extinct." 

'The trouble with snowmen,' Said my father one year 'They are no sooner made than they just disappear. I'll build you a snowman And I'll build it to last Add sand and cement And then have it cast. And so every winter,' He went on to explain 'You shall have a snowman Be it sunshine or rain.' And that snowman still stands Though my father is gone Out there in the garden Like an unmarked gravestone. Staring up at the house Gross and misshapen As if waiting for something Bad to happen. For as the years pass And I grow older When summers seem short And winters colder. The snowmen I envy As I watch children play Are the ones that are made And then fade away.

The Road Not Taken BY  ROBERT FROST Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

A Poison Tree BY  WILLIAM BLAKE I was angry with my friend;  I told my wrath, my wrath did end.  I was angry with my foe:  I told it not, my wrath did grow.  And I waterd it in fears,  Night & morning with my tears:  And I sunned it with smiles,  And with soft deceitful wiles.  And it grew both day and night.  Till it bore an apple bright.  And my foe beheld it shine,  And he knew that it was mine.  And into my garden stole,  When the night had veild the pole;  In the morning glad I see;  My foe outstretched beneath the tree.