FOG BY CARL SANDBURG

FOG BY CARL SANDBURG 

The fog comes 

on little cat feet. 

It sits looking 

over harbour and city 

on silent haunches 

and then moves on.

WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE

WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE 

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high 

Where knowledge is free 

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments 

By narrow domestic walls 

Where words come out from the depth of truth 

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection 

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way 

Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit 

Where the mind is led forward by thee 

Into ever-widening thought and action 

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

THE TIGER BY PETER NIBLETT

THE TIGER BY PETER NIBLETT 

The tiger behind the bars of his cage growls, 

The tiger behind the bars of his cage snarls, 

The tiger behind the bars of his cage roars. 

Then he thinks. 

It would be nice not to be behind bars all 

The time 

Because they spoil my view 

I wish I were wild, not on show. 

But if I were wild, hunters might shoot me, 

But if I were wild, food might poison me, 

But if I were wild, water might drown me. 

Then he stops thinking 

And... 

The tiger behind the bars of his cage growls, 

The tiger behind the bars of his cage snarls, 

The tiger behind the bars of his cage roars.

TEARS, IDLE TEARS BY TENNYSON

TEARS, IDLE TEARS BY TENNYSON 

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, 

Tears from the depth of some divine despair 

Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 

In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, 

And thinking of the days that are no more. 

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, 

That brings our friends up from the underworld, 

Sad as the last which reddens over one 

That sinks with all we love below the verge; 

So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. 

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns 

The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds 

To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 

The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; 

So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. 

Dear as remember'd kisses after death, 

And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd 

On lips that are for others; deep as love, 

Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; 

O Death in Life, the days that are no more!