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51 Cards in this Set
- Front
- Back
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"The Prologue" (1650)
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Anne Bradstreet
8 #'d stanzas; sextets in heroic couplets self-deprecation/-assertion |
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"I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits" "If what I do prove well, it won't advance, They'll say it's stol'n, or else it was by chance." "Let Greeks be Greek, and women what they are" |
"The Prologue" (1650)
Anne Bradstreet |
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"Contemplations" (1678)
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Anne Bradstreet
33 #'d stanzas; septuplets, 6 lines in iambic pentameter, final in hexameter; ABABCCC admiring God's works, remembering Adam/Eve, looking forward to better place and life |
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"The Author to Her Book" (1678)
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Anne Bradstreet
24 lines in heroic couplets book as ugly bastard child |
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"Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain, Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad, exposed to public view" "I washed thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw." "If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none; And for thy mother, she alas is poor, Which caused her thus to send thee out of door." |
"The Author to Her Book"
Anne Bradstreet |
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"To My Dear Husband"
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Anne Bradstreet
12 lines in heroic couplets |
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"If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can." |
"To My Dear Husband"
Anne Bradstreet cp. "A Letter to Her Husband, Absent upon Public Employment" ("Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone, I here, thou there, yet both but one." |
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"In Memory of My Dear Grandchild Elizabeth Bradstreet, Who Deceased August, 1665, Being a Year and a Half Old"
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Anne Bradstreet
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"Farewell dear babe, my heart's too much content
... Farewell fair flower that for a space was lent" "But plants new set to be eradicate, And buds new blown to have so short a date, Is by His hand alone that guides nature and fate." |
"In Memory of My Dear Grandchild..."
Anne Bradstreet |
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"Here Follows Some Verses upon the Burning of Our House July 10th, 1666"
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Anne Bradstreet
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"And when I could no longer look,
I blest His name that gave and took, That laid my gods now in the dust. Yea, so it was, and so 'twas just." |
"Upon the Burning of Our House"
Anne Bradstreet |
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"In Honor of That High and Might Princess Queen Elizabeth of Happy Memory"
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Anne Bradstreet, 1643 (1650)
heroic couplets; "The Proem," "The Poem," "Her Epitaph," and "Another [Epitaph]" |
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"She hath cast off th' aspersion of her sex,
That women wisdom lack to play the rex." |
"In Honor of...Queen Elizabeth"
Anne Bradstreet |
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"Preparatory Meditations"
"Upon Wedlock, and Death of Children" "Upon a Wasp Chilled with Cold" "Huswifery" |
Edward Taylor (1642-1729)
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"On the Emigration fo America and Peopling the Western Country"
"On Mr. Paine's Rights of Man" "On the Religion of Nature" |
Philip Freneau (1752-1832)
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"On Being Brought from Africa to America"
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Phillis Wheatley (1753-1784)
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"'Twas mercy brought me from my pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand That there's a God, that there's a Savior too: Once I redemption neither sought nor knew. Some view our sable race with scornful eye. 'Their color is a diabolic dye.' Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain, May be refined, and join the angelic train." |
"On Being Brought from Africa to America"
Phillis Wheatley 1773 |
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"To the University of Cambridge, in New England"
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Phillis Wheatley
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"On the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield, 1770"
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Phillis Wheatley
1770 first published poem, made her famous |
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"Thoughts on the Works of Providence"
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Phillis Wheatley
1773 (heroic couplets, as usual, but GOOD ones--much better than Bradstreet, much nicer flow, rhyme and rhythm much less forced) |
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"To S.M., a Young African Painter, on Seeing His Works"
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Phillis Wheatley
1773 like an invocation to the muses on his behalf; we'll both continue our art in paradise |
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"To His Excellency General Washington"
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Phillis Wheatley
1776 |
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"Thanatopsis"
"To a Waterfowl" "The Prairies" |
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
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"A Psalm of Life"
("What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist") |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1838 IX stanzas, quatrains in trochaic tetrameter, ABAB |
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"Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem." |
"A Psalm of Life"
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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"The Slave's Dream"
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1842 slave dreams of when he was a king in his native land and dies--his soul breaks out of his body and into the world of the dream |
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"The Jewish Cemetery at Newport"
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1854 |
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"Ichabod!"
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John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)
1850 Norton note: "an attack on Daniel Webster, whose championing of the Fugitive Slave Bill (...) made him anathema to the abolitionists." -pity him (don't scorn), he could have led his age, he's dead (his soul, faith, and honor gone) |
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"Snow Bound: A Winter Idyl"
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John Greenleaf Whittier
1855 759 lines, iambic (mostly) tetrameter couplets the poet's childhood household in a winter snowstorm |
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"The Skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere-- The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year" |
"To ------. Ulalume: A Ballad"
Poe 1847 |
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"Song of Myself"
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Walt Whitman
1881 |
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"Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)" |
"Song of Myself"
Walt Whitman 1881 |
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"I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world." |
"Song of Myself"
Walt Whitman 1881 |
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"Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems" |
"Song of Myself"
Walt Whitman 1881 |
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"I laugh at what you call dissolution,
And I know the amplitude of time." "I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul" |
"Song of Myself"
Walt Whitman 1881 |
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"I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men." "I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also." |
"Song of Myself"
Walt Whitman 1881 |
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"Live Oak, with Moss"
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Walt Whitman
1953 |
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"Spontaneous Me" (from 'Children of Adam')
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Walt Whitman
1856 (the lines that all start with "The" and it's all about sex) |
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"And this bunch pluck'd at random from myself,
It has done its work--I toss it carelessly to fall where it may." |
"Spontaneous Me"
Walt Whitman |
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"Once I Pass'd through a Populous City"
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Walt Whitman
1860 "Yet now of all that city I remember only a woman I casually met there who detain'd me for love of me" |
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"Facing West from California's Shores"
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Walt Whitman
1860 "Long having wander'd since, round the earth having wander'd, Now I face home again, very pleas'd and joyous, (But where is what I started for so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?)" |
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"Trickle Drops"
"Here the Frailest Leaves of Me" (from 'Calamus') |
Walt Whitman
1860 |
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"Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting,
Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems." |
"Here the Frailest Leaves of Me"
Walt Whitman 1860 |
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"Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"
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Walt Whitman
1856 |
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"Flood-tide beow me! I see you face to face!
Clouds of the west--sun there half an hour high--I see you also face to face." |
"Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"
Walt Whitman |
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"It avails not, time nor place--distance avails not,
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence, Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt" |
"Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"
Walt Whitman |
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"These and all else were to me the same as they are to you"
"What is it then between us?" |
"Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"
Walt Whitman |
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"Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking" (from 'Sea-Drift')
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Walt Whitman
1859 "The sea whisper'd me" |
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"When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer"
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Walt Whitman
1865 |
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"Beat! Beat! Drums!" (from 'Drum-Taps')
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Walt Whitman
1861 "So strong you thump O terrible drums--so loud you bugles blow." |
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"Cavalry Crossing a Ford"
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Walt Whitman
1865 |
