Poems1 Flashcards
He didn’t fight. He hadn’t fought at all.
Bishop; The Fish
I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat
Bishop; The Fish
He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely.
Bishop; The Fish
Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wall-paper
Bishop; The Fish
Shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age.
Bishop; The Fish
He was speckled with barnacles,
Fine rosettes of lime,
And infested
With tiny White Sea-lice
Bishop; The Fish
While his gills were breathing in
The terrible oxygen
-The frightening gills,
Bishop; The Fish
I thought of the course white flesh
Packed in like feathers
Bishop; The Fish
The big bones and the little bones,
The dramatic reds and blacks
Bishop; The Fish
I looked into his eyes.
Which were far larger than mine
But shallower, and yellowed
Bishop; the Fish
With tarnished tinfoil
Seen through the lenses
Of old scratched isinglass.
Bishop; The Fish
They shifted a little, but not
To return my stare.
Bishop; The Fish
It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light.
Bishop; The Fish
I admired his sullen face,
The mechanism of his jaw,
And then I saw
That from his lower lip
Bishop; the Fish
A green line, frayed at the end
Where he broke it, two heavier lines,
Bishop; The Fish
Like medals with their ribbons
Frayed and wavering,
A five-haired beard of wisdom
Bishop; The Fish
I stared and stared
And victory filled up
The little rented boat,
Bishop; The Fish
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take
Frost; After Apple Picking
And every fleck of russet showing clear
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a latter-round
Frost; After Apple Picking
As of no worth,
One can see what trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is
Frost; After Apple Picking
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his long sleep, as I describe its coming on, or just some human sleep
Frost; After Apple Picking
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth-
Assorted characters of death and blight mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Frost; Design
Like the ingredients of a witches’ broth
A snow drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
Frost; Design
What had the flower to do with being white, The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
Frost; Design
What brought the kindred spider to that height, then steered the white moth thither in the night?
Frost; Design
What but design of darkness to appall?
If design govern in a things so small.
Frost; Design
“Be sure to remember to always
Speak to everyone you meet.”
Bishop; Manners
“Good Day, sir. Good day. A fine day.”
Bishop; Manners
“Always offer everyone a ride;
Don’t forget that when you get older”
Bishop; Manners
But he flew a little way at a time
From fence post to dense post, ahead;
Bishop; Manners
When we came to Hustler Hill,
He said that the mare was tired
Bishop; Manners
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
We would sit down, and think which was to walk, and pass our long love’s day.
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide of Humber would complain.
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
I would love you ten years before the flood, and you should, if you please, refuse till the conversion of Jews.
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
My vegetable love should grow vaster than empires, and more slow;
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes and on they forehead gaze
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
An age at least to every part, and the last age should show your heart.
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
But at my back I always hear time winged chariot hurrying near;
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor in thy marble vault shall sound
My echoing song
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
Then worms shall thy
That long preserved virginity, and your quaint honor turn to dust
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
The graves’ a fine and private places,
But none, I think, do them embrace.
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now like the amorous birds of pray
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
Let us roll all our strength and all our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasure with rough strife
Marvell; To His Coy Mistress
