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100 Cards in this Set
- Front
- Back
anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down)
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E. E. Cummings |
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She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
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Lord Byron |
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'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and fumble in the wabe; |
Lewis Caroll |
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They say Richard Cory own one half of his whole town with political connections to spread his wealth around |
Simon and Garfunkel |
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Oceans apart day after day And slowly go insane |
Richard Marx |
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O my luve's like red, red rose That's newly sprung in June |
Robert Burns |
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Landlord, landlord My roof has sprung has sprung a leak |
Langston Hughes |
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I, too, sing America I am the darker brother |
Langston Hughes |
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I met a Traveler from an antique land Who said,"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone |
Percy Bysse Shelly |
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I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out sight |
Elizabeth Barrett Browning |
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Starry starry night Paint your palette blue and gray |
Don McLean |
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Whenever Richard Cory went to town, We people on the pavement looked at him: |
Edward Arlington Robinson |
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To everything(turn, turn, turn) There is a season( turn, turn, turn) |
Pete Seeger |
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To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven: |
Ecclesiastes |
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I chopped the house that you had been Saving to live in next summer |
Kenneth Koch |
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I have eaten the plums |
William Carlos Williams |
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Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me; Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see |
D. H. Lawrence |
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So much depends upon |
William Carlos Williams |
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I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. |
William Blake |
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The trick is, to live your days as if each may be your last |
J. Peter Meinke |
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I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; |
W. B. Yeats |
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Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn, Grew lean while he assailed the seasons; |
Edwin Arlington Robison |
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The witch that came( the withered hag) To wash the steps with pail and rag |
Robert Frost |
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Some say the world will end in fire; Some say in ice |
Robert Frost |
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Something there is that doesn't love a wall That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, |
Robert Frost |
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Hosts to species long since departed, Marked the mastodon |
Maya Angelou |
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I'm a riddle in nine syllables An elephant, a ponderous house |
Sylvia Plath |
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she wanted to be the blade of grass amid the fields |
Nikki Giovanni |
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I'm "wife" - I've finished that- That other state- |
Emily Dickinson |
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My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night |
Edna St. Vincent Millay |
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railroad yard in San Jose I wandered desolate |
Allen Ginsberg |
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In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial |
Stephen Crane |
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Constantly risking absurdity and death |
Lawrence Ferlinghetti |
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The pennycandystore beyond the El Is where I first |
Lawrence Ferlinghetti |
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During that summer When the purpose of knees |
John Tobias |
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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both |
Robert Frost |
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Whose woods these are I think I know His house is in the village though; |
Robert Frost |
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Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky |
T. S. Eliot |
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in Just spring when the world is mud- |
E. E. Cummings |
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There is no difference between being raped And being pushed down a flight of cement stairs |
Marge Piercy |
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The difference between poetry and rhetoric is being |
Audre Lorde |
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Tell all the Truth but tell it slant Success in Circuit lies |
Emily Dickinson |
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There's a certain Slant of light Winter Afternoons- |
Emily Dickinson |
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We real cool. We left school. We |
Gwendolyn Brooks |
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O' Melia, my dear, this does everything crown! Who could have supposed I should meet you in Town? |
Thomas Hardy |
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She even thinks that up in heaven Her class lies late and snore |
Countee Cullen |
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"Mother dear, may I go out downtown Instead of out to play, |
Dudley Randall |
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The king sits in Dumferling town Drinking the blude-red wine |
Anonymous |
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It fell about the Martinmas time And a gay time it was then, |
Anonymous |
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Slim Greer went to heaven; St. Peter said "Slim, |
Sterling Brown |
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Ah look at all the lonely people Ah look at all the lonely people |
The Beatles |
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The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet black bough |
Ezra Pound |
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The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy |
Theodore Roethke |
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Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole |
William Ernest Henley |
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Do not weep , maiden, for war is kind Because your lover threw wild hands towards the sky |
Stephen Crane |
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Bent double, like beggars under sacks Knock kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge |
Wilfred Owen |
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Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, |
Thomas Hardy |
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I know I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above |
W. B. Yeats |
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It was a lover and a lass, With a hey, and a ho, and hey nonino |
William Shakespeare |
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It little profits that idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, |
Lord Tennyson |
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may have killed the cat; more likely the cat was just unlucky, or else curious |
Alastair Reid |
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A long, long time ago I can still remember how |
Don McLean |
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Do not go gentle into that good night Old age should burn and rave at close of day; |
Dylan Thomas |
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Because I could not stop for Death- He kindly stopped for me- |
Emily Dickinson |
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She dwelt among the untrodden ways Besides the springs of a Dove |
William Wordsworth |
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With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, |
A. E. Housman |
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The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; |
A. E. Housman |
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All in green went my love riding on a great horse of gold |
E. E. Cummings |
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The world is too much with us; late soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: |
William Wordsworth |
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I knew a woman, lovely in her bones When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them |
Theodore Roethke |
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At 12 years old I started bleeding with the moon And beating up boys who dreamed of being astronauts |
Andrea Gibson |
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What lips my lips have kissed, and where and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain |
Edna St. Vincent Millay |
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That's my last duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call |
Robert Browning |
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Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of eagles, |
Walt Whitman |
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I knew a woman, lovely in her bones When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them |
Theodore Roethke |
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At 12 years old I started bleeding with the moon And beating up boys who dreamed of being astronauts |
Andrea Gibson |
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What lips my lips have kissed, and where and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain |
Edna St. Vincent Millay |
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That's my last duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call |
Robert Browning |
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Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of eagles, |
Walt Whitman |
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I knew a woman, lovely in her bones When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them |
Theodore Roethke |
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At 12 years old I started bleeding with the moon And beating up boys who dreamed of being astronauts |
Andrea Gibson |
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What lips my lips have kissed, and where and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain |
Edna St. Vincent Millay |
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That's my last duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call |
Robert Browning |
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Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of eagles, |
Walt Whitman |
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Thou still unravished bride of quietness Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, |
John Keats |
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Well son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. |
Langston Hughes |
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Well son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. |
Langston Hughes |
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The fog comes On little cat feet. |
Carl Sandburg |
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Well son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. |
Langston Hughes |
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The fog comes On little cat feet. |
Carl Sandburg |
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The Breughel's great picture, the Kermess, the dancers go round, they go round and |
William Carlos Williams |
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Well son, I'll tell you: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair. |
Langston Hughes |
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The fog comes On little cat feet. |
Carl Sandburg |
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The Breughel's great picture, the Kermess, the dancers go round, they go round and |
William Carlos Williams |
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What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up |
Langston Hughes |
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He clasps the crag with crooked hand; Close to the sun in lonely lands, |
Lord Tennyson |
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Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueback cold, |
Robert Hayden |
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I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, |
William Wordsworth |
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Back home the black women are all beautiful, and the white ones fall back, cutoff from 1000 |
Amiri Baraka |
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I walk down the garden paths, And all the daffodils |
Amy Lowell |