The House on the Hill
by Edwin Arlington Robinson
They are all gone away,
The House is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.
Through broken walls and gray
The winds blow bleak and shrill.
They are all gone away.
Nor is there one to-day
To speak them good or ill:
There is nothing more to say.
Why is it then we stray
Around the sunken sill?
They are all gone away,
And our poor fancy-play
For them is wasted skill:
There is nothing more to say.
There is ruin and decay
In the House on the Hill:
They are all gone away,
There is nothing more to say.
~~~~~~~~~~
Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
by Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learned, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~~~~~~~~~~
And a recent one of mine ...
Battered Woman
It was as if no crime occurred
On that or any other day
To one whose pleas were seldom heard.
When they believed his every word
In spite of what she had to say
It was as if no crime occurred.
She begged that charges be preferred
But ears of most were turned away
From one whose pleas were seldom heard.
Her body's never been interred
And no one's yet been made to pay.
It was as if no crime occurred.
With time the truth's becoming blurred
And we may never know the way
Of one whose pleas were seldom heard.
Though some consider it absurd
And deem it little more than play
It was as if no crime occurred
To one whose pleas were seldom heard.
