Ozymandias Summary

I met a traveller from an antique land

            Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

            Stand in the desert ... Near them, on the sand,

            Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

            And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

            Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

            Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

            The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

            And on the pedestal these words appear:

            “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

            Look on my works ye mighty and despair!”

            Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

            Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

            The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Ten English Words that you Pronounce Incorrectly

The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of today?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listen'd, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

'"The Solitary Reaper" is one of Wordsworth's most famous post-Lyrical Ballads lyrics.[1] The words of the reaper's song are incomprehensible to the speaker, so his attention is free to focus on the tone, expressive beauty, and the blissful mood it creates in him. The poem functions to 'praise the beauty of music and its fluid expressive beauty, the "spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings" that Wordsworth identified at the heart of poetry.'

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost (1874-1963) during his "Mountain Interval," 1920

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.