The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost (1874–1963). Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, | | And sorry I could not travel both | | And be one traveler, long I stood | | And looked down one as far as I could | | To where it bent in the undergrowth; | 5 | | | Then took the other, as just as fair, | | And having perhaps the better claim, | | Because it was grassy and wanted wear; | | Though as for that the passing there | | Had worn them really about the same, | 10 | | | And both that morning equally lay | | In leaves no step had trodden black. | | Oh, I kept the first for another day! | | Yet knowing how way leads on to way, | | I doubted if I should ever come back. | 15 | | | I shall be telling this with a sigh | | Somewhere ages and ages hence: | | Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— | | I took the one less traveled by, | | And that has made all the difference. | 20 | To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time | | by Robert Herrick | | Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry. O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAINO CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead. Walt Whitman UlyssesIt little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,-- cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor'd of them all,--
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the