Poem -A Time to Talk – Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road 

And slows his horse to a meaning walk, 

I don’t stand still and look around 

On all the hills I haven’t hoed, 

And shout from where I am, What is it? 

No, not as there is a time to talk. 

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, 

Blade-end up and five feet tall, 

And plod: I go up to the stone wall 

For a friendly visit.

Poem – A Soldier – Robert Frost 

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled, 

That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, 

But still lies pointed as it plowed the dust. 

If we who sight along it round the world, 

See nothing worthy to have been its mark, 

It is because like men we look too near, 

Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, 

Our missiles always make too short an arc. 

They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect 

The curve of earth, and striking, break their own; 

They make us cringe for metal-point on stone. 

But this we know, the obstacle that checked 

And tripped the body, shot the spirit on 

Further than target ever showed or shone.

Poem – Lines – John Keats

UNFELT unheard, unseen, 

I’ve left my little queen, 

Her languid arms in silver slumber lying: 

Ah! through their nestling touch, 

Who—who could tell how much 

There is for madness—cruel, or complying? 
Those faery lids how sleek! 

Those lips how moist!—they speak, 

In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: 

Into my fancy’s ear 

Melting a burden dear, 

How “Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds.” 
True!—tender monitors! 

I bend unto your laws: 

This sweetest day for dalliance was born! 

So, without more ado, 

I’ll feel my heaven anew, 

For all the blushing of the hasty morn.