{"id":404,"date":"2021-08-05T06:25:45","date_gmt":"2021-08-05T06:25:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-monroe-effectivecomm\/?post_type=chapter&p=404"},"modified":"2021-08-18T14:02:00","modified_gmt":"2021-08-18T14:02:00","slug":"poems","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-monroe-effectivecomm\/chapter\/poems\/","title":{"raw":"Poems","rendered":"Poems"},"content":{"raw":"
\r\n

Learning Objectives<\/h3>\r\n

Complete oral presentations in order to improve fluency and comprehensibility in speech<\/p>\r\n

Recite poems in order to improve pronunciation<\/p>\r\n\r\n

<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\"Book\r\n\r\nPoems<\/strong> are\u00a0texts in which the expression of feelings and ideas is written using rhyme, rhythm, and imagery. \u00a0Reciting poetry builds phonemic awareness, and helps build fluency by improving stress, pitch, and intonation. Studying metaphors, similes and personifications in poetry is a way to develop a deeper understanding of vocabulary and language usage.<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n
\r\n
\r\n

key Vocabulary<\/h3>\r\n

Imagery\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Memorize\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Literature\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Metaphor\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Personification<\/p>\r\n

Recite\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Rhyme\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Rhythm\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Simile\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Verse<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n

poems<\/h1>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n

Sonnet 18: Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day<\/h2>\r\n

by William Shakespeare<\/h2>\r\nShall I compare thee to a summer\u2019s day?\r\nThou art more lovely and more temperate:\r\nRough winds do shake the darling buds of May,\r\nAnd summer\u2019s lease hath all too short a date;\r\nSometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,\r\nAnd often is his gold complexion dimm'd;\r\nAnd every fair from fair sometime declines,\r\nBy chance or nature\u2019s changing course untrimm'd;\r\nBut thy eternal summer shall not fade,\r\nNor lose possession of that fair thou ow\u2019st;\r\nNor shall death brag thou wander\u2019st in his shade,\r\nWhen in eternal lines to time thou grow\u2019st:\r\nSo long as men can breathe or eyes can see,\r\nSo long lives this, and this gives life to thee.<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n

If\u2014<\/h2>\r\n

by Rudyard Kipling<\/h2>\r\nIf you can keep your head when all about you\r\nAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,\r\nIf you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,\r\nBut make allowance for their doubting too;\r\nIf you can wait and not be tired by waiting,\r\nOr being lied about, don\u2019t deal in lies,\r\nOr being hated, don\u2019t give way to hating,\r\nAnd yet don\u2019t look too good, nor talk too wise:\r\n\r\nIf you can dream\u2014and not make dreams your master;\r\nIf you can think\u2014and not make thoughts your aim;\r\nIf you can meet with Triumph and Disaster\r\nAnd treat those two impostors just the same;\r\nIf you can bear to hear the truth you\u2019ve spoken\r\nTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,\r\nOr watch the things you gave your life to, broken,\r\nAnd stoop and build \u2019em up with worn-out tools:\r\n\r\nIf you can make one heap of all your winnings\r\nAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,\r\nAnd lose, and start again at your beginnings\r\nAnd never breathe a word about your loss;\r\nIf you can force your heart and nerve and sinew\r\nTo serve your turn long after they are gone,\r\nAnd so hold on when there is nothing in you\r\nExcept the Will which says to them: \u2018Hold on!\u2019\r\n\r\nIf you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,\r\nOr walk with Kings\u2014nor lose the common touch,\r\nIf neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,\r\nIf all men count with you, but none too much;\r\nIf you can fill the unforgiving minute\r\nWith sixty seconds\u2019 worth of distance run,\r\nYours is the Earth and everything that\u2019s in it,\r\nAnd\u2014which is more\u2014you\u2019ll be a Man, my son!<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n

\u201cHope\u201d is the thing with feathers - (314)<\/h2>\r\n

By Emily Dickinson<\/h2>\r\n\u201cHope\u201d is the thing with feathers -\r\nThat perches in the soul -\r\nAnd sings the tune without the words -\r\nAnd never stops - at all -\r\n\r\nAnd sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -\r\nAnd sore must be the storm -\r\nThat could abash the little Bird\r\nThat kept so many warm -\r\n\r\nI\u2019ve heard it in the chillest land -\r\nAnd on the strangest Sea -\r\nYet - never - in Extremity,\r\nIt asked a crumb - of me.<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n

Nothing Gold Can Stay<\/h2>\r\n

By Robert Lee Frost<\/h2>\r\nNature's first green is gold,\r\nHer hardest hue to hold.\r\nHer early leaf's a flower;\r\nBut only so an hour.\r\nThen leaf subsides to leaf.\r\nSo Eden sank to grief,\r\nSo dawn goes down to day.\r\nNothing gold can stay.<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n

A Starry Night<\/h2>\r\n

by Paul Laurence Dunbar<\/h2>\r\nA cloud fell down from the heavens,\r\nAnd broke on the mountain's brow;\r\nIt scattered the dusky fragments\r\nAll over the vale below.\r\n\r\nThe moon and the stars were anxious\r\nTo know what its fate might be;\r\nSo they rushed to the azure op'ning,\r\nAnd all peered down to see.<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\r\n

My Mother's Kiss<\/h2>\r\n

By Frances Harper<\/h2>\r\nMy mother's kiss, my mother's kiss,\r\nI feel its impress now;\r\nAs in the bright and happy days\r\nShe pressed it on my brow.\r\n\r\nYou say it is a fancied thing\r\nWithin my memory fraught;\r\nTo me it has a sacred place -\r\nThe treasure house of thought.\r\n\r\nAgain, I feel her fingers glide\r\nAmid my clustering hair;\r\nI see the love-light in her eyes,\r\nWhen all my life was fair.\r\n\r\nAgain, I hear her gentle voice\r\nIn warning or in love.\r\nHow precious was the faith that taught\r\nMy soul of things above.\r\n\r\nThe music of her voice is stilled,\r\nHer lips are paled in death.\r\nAs precious pearls I'll clasp her words\r\nUntil my latest breath.\r\n\r\nThe world has scattered round my path\r\nHonor and wealth and fame;\r\nBut naught so precious as the thoughts\r\nThat gather round her name.\r\n\r\nAnd friends have placed upon my brow\r\nThe laurels of renown;\r\nBut she first taught me how to wear\r\nMy manhood as a crown.\r\n\r\nMy hair is silvered o'er with age,\r\nI'm longing to depart;\r\nTo clasp again my mother's hand,\r\nAnd be a child at heart.\r\n\r\nTo roam with her the glory-land\r\nWhere saints and angels greet;\r\nTo cast our crowns with songs of love\r\nAt our Redeemer's feet.<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n \r\n

Online Resources:<\/span><\/h2>\r\nPublic Domain Poetry<\/a>\r\n\r\nPoetry Foundation<\/a>\r\n\r\nPoets.org<\/a>","rendered":"
\n

Learning Objectives<\/h3>\n

Complete oral presentations in order to improve fluency and comprehensibility in speech<\/p>\n

Recite poems in order to improve pronunciation<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\"Book<\/p>\n

Poems<\/strong> are\u00a0texts in which the expression of feelings and ideas is written using rhyme, rhythm, and imagery. \u00a0Reciting poetry builds phonemic awareness, and helps build fluency by improving stress, pitch, and intonation. Studying metaphors, similes and personifications in poetry is a way to develop a deeper understanding of vocabulary and language usage.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\n

key Vocabulary<\/h3>\n

Imagery\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Memorize\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Literature\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Metaphor\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Personification<\/p>\n

Recite\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Rhyme\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Rhythm\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Simile\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Verse<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

poems<\/h1>\n\n\n\n
\n

Sonnet 18: Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day<\/h2>\n

by William Shakespeare<\/h2>\n

Shall I compare thee to a summer\u2019s day?
\nThou art more lovely and more temperate:
\nRough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
\nAnd summer\u2019s lease hath all too short a date;
\nSometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
\nAnd often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
\nAnd every fair from fair sometime declines,
\nBy chance or nature\u2019s changing course untrimm’d;
\nBut thy eternal summer shall not fade,
\nNor lose possession of that fair thou ow\u2019st;
\nNor shall death brag thou wander\u2019st in his shade,
\nWhen in eternal lines to time thou grow\u2019st:
\nSo long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
\nSo long lives this, and this gives life to thee.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
\n

If\u2014<\/h2>\n

by Rudyard Kipling<\/h2>\n

If you can keep your head when all about you
\nAre losing theirs and blaming it on you,
\nIf you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
\nBut make allowance for their doubting too;
\nIf you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
\nOr being lied about, don\u2019t deal in lies,
\nOr being hated, don\u2019t give way to hating,
\nAnd yet don\u2019t look too good, nor talk too wise:<\/p>\n

If you can dream\u2014and not make dreams your master;
\nIf you can think\u2014and not make thoughts your aim;
\nIf you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
\nAnd treat those two impostors just the same;
\nIf you can bear to hear the truth you\u2019ve spoken
\nTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
\nOr watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
\nAnd stoop and build \u2019em up with worn-out tools:<\/p>\n

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
\nAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
\nAnd lose, and start again at your beginnings
\nAnd never breathe a word about your loss;
\nIf you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
\nTo serve your turn long after they are gone,
\nAnd so hold on when there is nothing in you
\nExcept the Will which says to them: \u2018Hold on!\u2019<\/p>\n

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
\nOr walk with Kings\u2014nor lose the common touch,
\nIf neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
\nIf all men count with you, but none too much;
\nIf you can fill the unforgiving minute
\nWith sixty seconds\u2019 worth of distance run,
\nYours is the Earth and everything that\u2019s in it,
\nAnd\u2014which is more\u2014you\u2019ll be a Man, my son!<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
\n

\u201cHope\u201d is the thing with feathers – (314)<\/h2>\n

By Emily Dickinson<\/h2>\n

\u201cHope\u201d is the thing with feathers –
\nThat perches in the soul –
\nAnd sings the tune without the words –
\nAnd never stops – at all –<\/p>\n

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
\nAnd sore must be the storm –
\nThat could abash the little Bird
\nThat kept so many warm –<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve heard it in the chillest land –
\nAnd on the strangest Sea –
\nYet – never – in Extremity,
\nIt asked a crumb – of me.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
\n

Nothing Gold Can Stay<\/h2>\n

By Robert Lee Frost<\/h2>\n

Nature’s first green is gold,
\nHer hardest hue to hold.
\nHer early leaf’s a flower;
\nBut only so an hour.
\nThen leaf subsides to leaf.
\nSo Eden sank to grief,
\nSo dawn goes down to day.
\nNothing gold can stay.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
\n

A Starry Night<\/h2>\n

by Paul Laurence Dunbar<\/h2>\n

A cloud fell down from the heavens,
\nAnd broke on the mountain’s brow;
\nIt scattered the dusky fragments
\nAll over the vale below.<\/p>\n

The moon and the stars were anxious
\nTo know what its fate might be;
\nSo they rushed to the azure op’ning,
\nAnd all peered down to see.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n\n\n
\n

My Mother’s Kiss<\/h2>\n

By Frances Harper<\/h2>\n

My mother’s kiss, my mother’s kiss,
\nI feel its impress now;
\nAs in the bright and happy days
\nShe pressed it on my brow.<\/p>\n

You say it is a fancied thing
\nWithin my memory fraught;
\nTo me it has a sacred place –
\nThe treasure house of thought.<\/p>\n

Again, I feel her fingers glide
\nAmid my clustering hair;
\nI see the love-light in her eyes,
\nWhen all my life was fair.<\/p>\n

Again, I hear her gentle voice
\nIn warning or in love.
\nHow precious was the faith that taught
\nMy soul of things above.<\/p>\n

The music of her voice is stilled,
\nHer lips are paled in death.
\nAs precious pearls I’ll clasp her words
\nUntil my latest breath.<\/p>\n

The world has scattered round my path
\nHonor and wealth and fame;
\nBut naught so precious as the thoughts
\nThat gather round her name.<\/p>\n

And friends have placed upon my brow
\nThe laurels of renown;
\nBut she first taught me how to wear
\nMy manhood as a crown.<\/p>\n

My hair is silvered o’er with age,
\nI’m longing to depart;
\nTo clasp again my mother’s hand,
\nAnd be a child at heart.<\/p>\n

To roam with her the glory-land
\nWhere saints and angels greet;
\nTo cast our crowns with songs of love
\nAt our Redeemer’s feet.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

 <\/p>\n

Online Resources:<\/span><\/h2>\n

Public Domain Poetry<\/a><\/p>\n

Poetry Foundation<\/a><\/p>\n

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