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William Shakespeare (1564-1616) is regarded by many as one of the greatest poets/playwrights in

history. This poem is an excerpt from his play "As You Like It." The poem compares the world to a
stage and life to a play, and catalogues seven stages in a man's life: infant, schoolboy, lover, soldier,
justice, aging man, and finally facing imminent death. The poem suggests that each stage in a man's life
calls upon him to play another role.

All The World's A Stage

By William Shakespeare

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.

QUESTION:‘ THE POEM DEPICTS A NEGATIVE VIEW OF THE WORLD’

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I Sit and Look Out” captures the corruption of the world. Walt Whitman, an influential American poet,
lived in the 1800s, a time that saw things like political slander, Trail of Tears, slavery, and the Civil War.
In this poem, the speaker is merely an onlooker, not someone to get involved in all these negative affairs
of society. However, readers might be inspired to do their part to create a positive influence on the world
that will lessen the destruction.

I sit and look out

By Walt Whitman

I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look
out upon,
See, hear, and am silent

QUESTION: THE POEM OFFERS READERS A HOPE AND INSPIRATION TO BE A

POSITIVE INFLUENCE
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This poem is an elegy (a poem of lament for someone who has passed away). It was written about
Alfred Tennyson’s friend, Arthur Henry Hallam, who was engaged to Tennyson’s sister. Arthur Henry
Hallam died suddenly at the age of twenty-two. In this poem, Tennyson (1809-1892) shares about
casting aside all the bad and painful things of the year. Due to the heartache that year brought him,
Tennyson was ready to put the grief behind him. This could also be considered a New Year’s poem about
starting anew. Alfred Tennyson’s first son was named Hallam, after his best friend.

Ring Out, Wild Bells

By Alfred Tennyson

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,

For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,

The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
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Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

QUESTION: THE POEM OFFERS ONLY SADNESS RATHER THAN HOPE.

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For many people, it has been a struggle to attain the American dream. Langston Hughes (1902-1967)
shares how many groups of people have not been able to experience the America that people dream it to
be. They have struggled for freedom and equality. Langston Hughes himself experienced the difficulty of
living out his dream of being a writer because it was difficult to earn money in that profession. Although
this poem has a very somber feel, hope is presented at the end. Many of the lines in this poem use
alliteration (multiple words beginning with the same sound).

Let America Be America Again

By Langston Hughes

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
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I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?

Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
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The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!
QUESTION: THE POEM OFFERS ONLY A DESOLATE VIEW OF AMERICA
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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) ws an Irish poet. This poem was written in 1918, near the end of
World War I, and published the following year. In it, the speaker is coming to terms with the reality that
he could die in the war. The speaker shares that the war will not make life better or worse. William
Butler Yeats was highly involved in Ireland's politics, but the speaker of this poem did not fight in the
war for political reasons. Instead, it was an “impulse of delight.” This poem does not have any stanza
breaks, but it does follow the ABAB rhyme scheme.

An Irish Airman Foresees His

Death
By William Butler Yeats

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

QUESTION: THE POET ONLY SHOWS PATRIOTIC FEELINGS FOR HIS COUNTRY, NOT
LOYALTY TO THE FIGHT.
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The landscape of New England influenced many of Robert Frost’s poems, which can be seen in “My
November Guest.” In this poem, sorrow is personified as someone the speaker loved. While the speaker
sees things one way, Sorrow sees them differently. She sees the beauty in autumn, while the poet
cannot. We each see beauty in different things. Even in the midst of sorrow there can be something
beautiful. In the midst of autumn, where leaves are dying, there is beauty in their changing colors.

My November Guest
By Robert Frost

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,

Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.

She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,

The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

QUESTION: THE POET SHOWS ONLY SORROWFUL FEELINGS OF THE LANDSCAPE

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Walt Whitman was an American poet who lived from 1819-1892. Some of his poetry was controversial
because of the nature of its content, but he is believed to be the father of free verse (but he did not
invent this form of poetry). He is also seen as a "poet of democracy" because he wrote so strongly
about the American character. In this poem, Whitman shows how America is made up of a variety of
people. It's the stories of those people who make America the strong and unique nation that it is.

I Hear America Singing

By Walt Whitman

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, or at noon
intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of 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.

QUESTION: ( DIFFICULT TO FIND AN ARGUMENT FOR THIS ONE, BUT ANNOTATE FOR
PRACTICE)
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This poem was published in 1924, just as Pablo Neruda entered his 20s. In this poem, the speaker is
dealing with the end of a relationship and longing for the woman to be back in his arms. The repetition
of, “Tonight I can write the saddest lines,” brings the reader’s attention to that theme throughout this
sad love poem. Pablo Neruda used alliteration throughout this poem with many words beginning with “s”
(saddest, shattered, stars, sky, soul, etc.).

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines

By Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is shattered

and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.

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My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.

Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.