1.How do I love thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
2.I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud. By William Wordsworth
 
3.Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part-by Micheal Drayton
4.The Farewell- by William Cullen Bryant
5.When We Two Parted. By Lord Byron
6.The Tyger-by William Blake
7.Prayer-by Langston Hughes
8.Homecoming-by Langston Hughes
9.A Dream Within a Dream-by Edgar Allen Poe
10.I Loved you Once-by Alexander Pushkin
11.The Consolation-by Anne Brontë
12.Farewell-by Anne Brontë
13.The Captive Dove-by Anne Brontë
 14.Footprints in the Sand by Mary Stevenson 
 15. How Beautiful Art Thy Feet with Shoes by Alden Nowlan



HOW DO I LOVE THEE?--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight
I love thee freely, as men strive for right
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs and childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost Saints,-I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -And if god
Choose, I shall but love thee better after death.


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 the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves behind 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.


SINCE THERE'S NO HELP, COME LET US KISS AND PART-Micheal Drayton
-
Nay, I have done; you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows,
That we one jot of former love retain.


 THE FAREWELL-by William Cullen Bryant

"O thou, whose cherished image seems

A portion of my heart,

Whose eyes of light make glad my dreams,

Farewell, for now we part.

The sail is swelling in the bay,

That bears me on my distant way,

For years to rove the dreary sea-

For years-and think of only thee."

Yet will that beauteous image make

The dreary sea less drear,

And thy remembered smile will wake 

The hope that tramples fear,

When I shall face the tempest's wrath,

Or struggle through the dangerous path

Where the blue icebergs, vast and steep,

Drifting and dashing, crowd the deep."

Then, too, when heaven with clouds is dark

And wild winds sweep the vale,

Wilt thou not think of him whose bark 

Strives with the polar gale?

Wilt thou not think, and softly pray

For the sea-wanderer far away, 

That, all his toils and perils o'er,

His hands may clasp thy hand once more? "

But shouldst thou hear no more of me,

Or hear that I have died

And sleep within that icy sea,

Or on it's desert side,

Will not a pang thy bosom press, 

Even in thy Pride of loveliness-

A tear in thy sweet eyelids shine

For him whose latest thought was thine?

*Submitted by Angella Cormier in loving memory of her best friend 
Julien Collette


WHEN WE TWO PARTED--Lord Byron

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning 
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning 
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name you before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why were thou so dear? 
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well.--
Long, Long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
In silence and tears.


THE TYGER - by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright 
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart,
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 

PRAYER - by Langston Hughes
Oh, God of dust and rainbows, help us see
That without dust the rainbow would not be. 

HOMECOMING - by Langston Hughes
I went back in the alley
And I opened up my doors
All her clothes was gone
She wasn't home no more

I pulled back the covers
I made down the bed
A Whole lot of room
Was the only thing I had

A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM--Edgar Allen Poe

Take this kiss upon thy brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, to deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

I LOVED YOU ONCE--By Alexander Pushkin

I loved you once, nor can this heart be quiet;
For it would seem that love still lingers there;
But do not you be further troubled by it;
I would in no wise hurt you, oh, my dear.

I loved you without hope, a mute offender;
What jealous pangs, what shy despairs I knew!
A love as deep as this, as true, as tender,
God grant another may yet offer you

THE CONSOLATION--by Anne Brontë
Though bleak these woods and damp the ground 
With fallen leaves so thickly strewn, 
And cold the wind that wanders round 
With wild and melancholy moan, 
There is a friendly roof I know 
Might shield me from the wintry blast; 
There is a fire whose ruddy glow 
Will cheer me for my wanderings past. 

And so, though still where'er I roam 
Cold stranger glances meet my eye, 
Though when my spirit sinks in woe 
Unheeded swells the unbidden sigh, 

Though solitude endured too long 
Bids youthful joys too soon decay, 
Makes mirth a stranger to my tongue 
And overclouds my noon of day, 

When kindly thoughts that would have way 
Flow back discouraged to my breast 
I know there is, though far away 
A home where heart and soul may rest. 

Warm hands are there that clasped in mine 
The warmer heart will not belie, 
While mirth and truth and friendship shine 
In smiling lip and earnest eye. 

The ice that gathers round my heart 
May there be thawed; and sweetly then 
The joys of youth that now depart 
Will come to cheer my soul again. 

Though far I roam, this thought shall be 
My hope, my comfort everywhere; 
While such a home remains to me 
My heart shall never know despair. 

FAREWELL--by Anne Brontë

Farewell to thee! but not farewell 
To all my fondest thoughts of thee: 
Within my heart they still shall dwell; 
And they shall cheer and comfort me. 
O, beautiful, and full of grace! 
If thou hadst never met mine eye, 
I had not dreamed a living face 
Could fancied charms so far outvie. 

If I may ne'er behold again 
That form and face so dear to me, 
Nor hear thy voice, still would I fain 
Preserve, for aye, their memory. 

That voice, the magic of whose tone 
Can wake an echo in my breast, 
Creating feelings that, alone, 
Can make my tranced spirit blest. 

That laughing eye, whose sunny beam 
My memory would not cherish less; -- 
And oh, that smile! whose joyous gleam 
Nor mortal language can express. 

Adieu, but let me cherish, still, 
The hope with which I cannot part. 
Contempt may wound, and coldness chill, 
But still it lingers in my heart. 

And who can tell but Heaven, at last, 
May answer all my thousand prayers, 
And bid the future pay the past 
With joy for anguish, smiles for tears? 

THE CAPTIVE DOVE--By Anne Brontë
Poor restless dove, I pity thee; 
And when I hear thy plaintive moan, 
I mourn for thy captivity, 
And in thy woes forget mine own. 
To see thee stand prepared to fly, 
And flap those useless wings of thine, 
And gaze into the distant sky, 
Would melt a harder heart than mine. 

In vain ­ in vain! Thou canst not rise: 
Thy prison roof confines thee there; 
Its slender wires delude thine eyes, 
And quench thy longings with despair. 

Oh, thou wert made to wander free 
In sunny mead and shady grove, 
And, far beyond the rolling sea, 
In distant climes, at will to rove! 

Yet, hadst thou but one gentle mate 
Thy little drooping heart to cheer, 
And share with thee thy captive state, 
Thou couldst be happy even there. 

Yes, even there, if, listening by, 
One faithful dear companion stood, 
While gazing on her full bright eye, 
Thou mightst forget thy native wood. 

But thou, poor solitary dove, 
Must make, unheard, thy joyless moan; 
The heart, that Nature formed to love, 
Must pine, neglected, and alone. 

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND--Mary Stevenson

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was
walking along the beach with the Lord. Across the
sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he
noticed two sets of footprints in the sand: one
belonging to him, and the other to the Lord. When
the last scene of his life flashed before him, he
looked back at the footprints in the sand. He
noticed that many times along the path of his life
there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed
that it happened at the very lowest and saddest
times in his life. This really bothered him and he
questioned the Lord about it. "Lord, You said that
once I decided to follow you, You'd walk with me all
the way. But I have noticed that during the most
troublesome times in my life, there is only one set
of footprints. I don't understand why when I needed
you most you would leave me." The Lord replied,
"My son, My precious child, I love you and I would
never leave you. During your times of trial and
suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it
was then that I Carried You." 

HOW BEAUTIFUL ART THY FEET WITH SHOES -- by Alden Nowlan

I suppose it's because so many
poets and artists have never had enough
love from women-as boys they were hideous
in their own eyes, as I was, who thought myself 
half-brother to Quasimodo
and looked upon every girl as Esmeralda-
I suppose it's because of this
that they've devoted so much time to portraying the wonders
of her nakedness, to celebrating
her thighs and breasts
so that some love poems sound more like
commercials for fried chicken,
and hardly ever mention
moments like this when I look up and see you,
through the window, getting out of a cab
with your arms full of Christmas parcels
(they always seem to be Christmas parcels, even in July and even if they're only books from the public library)
there must have been times, many times,
over the years, when you came home from somewhere
without your arms filled with parcels,
but I don't remember any of them now,
nor do I recall a time when you didn't come in
either bursting to show me something
or trying to hide something from me:
I've never known anybody so fond of arranging
surprises or so inept at keeping secrets;
and I know how long it takes you to complete
the smallest transaction, how much you like to
look at things and touch them, and how you're always
getting involved in long conversations with
old men in waiting rooms, little kids on tricycles,
the high school students who work part-time in supermarkets,
how you even say "Hello dog," if you meet one-
all this, and so much more, goes through my head 
as I catch a glimpse of you, getting out of a cab
with your arms full of parcels, as they always are,
and am reminded, suddenly, of how much I love you.