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Caged Bird Poem by Maya Angelou. The free bird leapson the back of the windand floats downstreamtill the current endsand dips his wingsin the orange sun raysand dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see throughhis bars of ragehis wings are clipped andhis feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird singswith fearful trillof the things unknownbut longed for stilland his tune is heardon the distant hill for the caged birdsings of freedom The free bird thinks of another breezeand the trade winds soft through the sighing treesand the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawnand he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreamshis shadow shouts on a nightmare screamhis wings are clipped and his feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing The caged bird singswith a fearful trillof things unknownbut longed for stilland his tune is heardon the distant hillfor the caged birdsings of freedom.

Phenomenal Woman Poem by Maya Angelou. Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's sizeBut when I start to tell them,They think I'm telling lies.I say,It's in the reach of my armsThe span of my hips,The stride of my step,The curl of my lips.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me. I walk into a roomJust as cool as you please,And to a man,The fellows stand orFall down on their knees.Then they swarm around me,A hive of honey bees.I say,It's the fire in my eyes,And the flash of my teeth,The swing in my waist,And the joy in my feet.I'm a womanPhenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me.

Men themselves have wonderedWhat they see in me.They try so muchBut they can't touchMy inner mystery.When I try to show themThey say they still can't see.I say,It's in the arch of my back,The sun of my smile,The ride of my breasts,The grace of my style.I'm a woman Phenomenally.Phenomenal woman,That's me. All The World's A Stage Poem by William Shakespeare. All the world's a stage,And all the men and women merely players;They have their exits and their entrances,And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages.

At first, the infant,Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchelAnd shining morning face, creeping like snailUnwillingly to school. And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful balladMade to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,Seeking the bubble reputationEven in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,In fair round belly with good capon lined,With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,Full of wise saws and modern instances;And so he plays his part. If I Could Tell You by W H Auden. "Hope" is the thing with feathers - Poem by Emily Dickinson. The Lady Of Shalott (1832) Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. PART I On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot; The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott. Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel, singing clearly, O'er the stream of Camelot. Piling the sheaves in furrows airy, Beneath the moon, the reaper weary Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy, Lady of Shalott.' The little isle is all inrail'd With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd With roses: by the marge unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken sail'd, Skimming down to Camelot. Crossing The Bar Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

A Prayer In Spring Poem by Robert Frost. Dear Heart, Why Will You Use Me So? Poem by James Joyce. My Shadow Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson. From Child's Garden of Verses I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow--Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see;I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. Self-MadeWolf: Wystan Hugh Auden - Blues pogrzebowy (Funeral Blues). Serwis poetycki Poema. Niech staną zegary, zamilkną telefony,Dajcie psu kość, niech nie szczeka, niech śpi najedzony,Niech milczą fortepiany i w miękkiej werbli ciszyWynieście trumnę. Niech przyjdą żałobnicy. Niech głośno łkając samolot pod chmury się wzbijeI kreśli na niebie napis: „On nie żyje!” Włóżcie żałobne wstążki na białe szyje gołębi ulicznych,Policjanci na skrzyżowaniach niech noszą czarne rękawiczki.

W nim miałem moją Północ, Południe, mój Zachód i Wschód,Niedzielny odpoczynek i codzienny trud,Jasność dnia i mrok nocy, moje słowa i śpiew.Miłość, myślałem, będzie trwała wiecznie: myliłem się. Nie potrzeba już gwiazd, zgaście wszystkie, do końca;Zdejmijcie z nieba księżyc i rozmontujcie słońce;Wylejcie wodę z morza, odbierzcie drzewom cień.Teraz już nigdy na nic nie przydadzą się. przekład: Paweł Lesisz Wyłączcie telefony, wstrzymajcie zegary,Psom rzućcie kość soczystą żeby nie szczekały,Uciszcie fortepiany i niech żałobnicyPrzy głuchych werblach trumnę wyniosą z kaplicy. przekład: Jacek Dehnel. Love and Friendship by Emily Brontë. I Carry Your Heart With Me By e.e. cummings, Famous Love Poem.

Annabel Lee By Edgar Allan Poe, Famous Sad Love Poem. It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me- Yes!

- that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden. Daffodils by William Wordsworth.