Tiger! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful sym
2019-04-09
O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has fou
Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a f
This sonnet (a poem of 14 lines) is by Wilfred Owen—perhaps the most famous of the First World War English poet
And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they
GO placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without sur