Poem Generator

Though all the fates should prove unkind,

Leave not your native land behind.

The ship, bacalmed, at stands stils;

The steed must rest beneath the hill;

But swiftly still out fortunes pace.

The vessel, though her masts be firms,

Beneath her copper bears a worm;

Around the cape, across the line

Till fields of ice her course confine;

It matters not how smooth the breeze,

How shallow or how deep the seas,

Whether she bears Manilla twine,

Or in her hold Madeira wine,

Or China teas, or Spanish hides,

In port or quarantine she rides;

Far from New England's blustering shore,

New England's worm her hulk shall bore,

And sink her in the Indian seas,

Twine, wine, and hides, and China teas.

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,

Thy tribute wave deliver:

No more by thee my steps shall be,

For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,

A rivulet then a river:

Nowhere by thee my steps shall be

For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree

And here thine aspen shiver;

And here by thee will hum the bee,

For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,

A thousand moons will quiver;

But not by thee my steps shall be,

For ever and for ever.

Never trust a white man,

Never kill a Jew,

Never sign a contract,

Never rent a pew.

Don't enlist in armies;

Nor marry many wives;

Never write for magazines;

Never scratch your hives.

Always put paper on the seat,

Don't believe in wars,

Keep yourself both clean and neat,

Never marry whores.

Never pay a blackmailer,

Never go to law,

Never trust a publisher,

Or you'll sleep on straw.

All your friends will leave you

All your friends will die

So lead a clean and wholesome life

And join them in the sky.

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat

the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench,

The hatter singing as he stands,

The wood-cutter's song,

The ploughboy's on his way in the morning,t sundown,

At noon intermission,

The delicious singing of the mother,

The young wife at work,

The girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day -

At night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad:

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound.

Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

God grant a blessing on this tower and cottage

And on my heirs, if all remain unspoiled,

No table or chair or stool not simple enough

For shepherd lads in Galilee; and grant

That I myself for portions of the year

May handle nothing and set eyes on nothing

But what the great and passionate have useddiv>

Throughout so many varying centuries

We take it for the norm;

Yet should I dream

Sinbad the sailor's brought a painted chest,

Or image, from beyond the Loadstone Mountain,

That dream is a norm;

And should some limb of the Devil

Destroy the view by cutting down an ash

That shades the road, or setting up a cottage

Planned in a government office,

Shorten his life,

Manacle his soul upon the Red Sea bottom.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Sweet melody amidst the moving spheres

Breaks forth, a solemn and entrancing sound,

A harmony whereof the earth's green hills

Give but the faintest echo; yet is there

A music everywhere, and concert sweet!

All birds which sing amidst the forest deep

Till the flowers listen with unfolded bells;

All winds that murmur over summer grass,

Or curl the waves upon the pebbly shore;

Chiefly all earnest human voices rais'd

In charity and for the cause of truth,

Mingle together in one sacred chord,

And float, a grateful incense, up to God.

In the circus tent of a hurricane

Designed by a drunken god

My extravagant heart blows up again

In a rampage of champagne-colored rain

And the fragments whir like a weather vane

While the angels all applaud.

Daring as death and debonair

I invade my lion's den;

A rose of jeopardy flames in my hair

Yet I flourish my whip with a fatal flair

Defending my perilous wounds with a chair

While the gnawings of love begin.

Mocking as Mephistopheles,

Eclipsed by magician's disguise,

My demon of doom tilts on a trapeze,

Winged rabbits revolving about his knees,

Only to vanish with devilish ease

In a smoke that sears my eyes.

The time will come

When, with elation,

You will greet yourself arriving

At your own door, in your own mirror,

And each will smile at the other's welcome,

And say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was yourself.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

To itself, to the stranger who has loved you

All your life, whom you ignored

For another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

The photographs, the desperate notes,

Peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

Each night,

This adroit yound lady,

Lies among sheets

Shredded fine as snowflakes

Until dream takes her body

From bed to strict tryouts.

In tightrope acrobatics.

Nightly she balances

Cat-clever on perilous wire

In a gigantic hall,

Footing her delicate dances

To whipcrack and roar

Which speak her maestro's will.

Gilded, coming correct

Across that sultry air,

She steps, halts, hung

In dead center of her act

As great weights drop all about her

And commence to swing.

Lessoned thus, the girl

Parries the lunge and menace

Of every pendulum;

By deft duck and twirl

She draws applause; bright harness

Bites keen into each brave limb

Then, this tough stint done, she curtsies

And serenely plummets down

To traverse glass floor

And get safe home; but, turning with trained eyes,

Tiger-tamer and grinning clown

Squat, bowling black balls at her.n

Tall trucks roll in

With a thunder like lions; all aims

And lumbering moves

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.

Love them anyways.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.

Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.

Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.

Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.

Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.

Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.

Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.

Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth

Give the world the best you have anyway.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.