The Greenwood Tree: William Shakespeare

Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun,

And loves to lie i' the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Summary: In this poem, 'The Greenwood Tree', the poet William Shakespeare describes the charms of forest life and asks people to come and join him in forest. The poet invites any enthusiastic friends to come and take time to relax under the greenwood tree and turn any melodious note of the heart into the sweetest song that the sweetest bird can ever sing. The friend is free to sing like a bird. So anyone can come immediately towards the greenwood tree. Here one shall find no enemies but only the rough and cold weather of winter. 

All the world's a stage: 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.

Then the whining schoolboy, 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 honor, 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 slippered 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.

Summary: In this poem, the poet compares the world with a stage and the men and women with actors and actresses. In the whole life a person plays different roles. At the beginning he is an infant. Then he becomes a school boy who is always reluctant to go to school. After this stage he becomes a lover who composes for sing on his beloved's beauty. In the next stage he turns into a proud soldier who is quick an action. After it he becomes a man of wisdom. In the sixth stage he wears spectacles and becomes weak for old ages. Finally he grows so old that he loves his teeth, eyesight and all kinds of strength.

The Village Blacksmith: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

UNDER a spreading chestnut tree

The village smithy stands;

The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands;

And the muscles of his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,

His face is like the tan;

His brow is wet with honest sweat,

He earns whate'er he can,

And looks the whole world in the face,

For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,

You can hear his bellows blow;

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge

With measured beat and slow,

Like a sexton ringing the village bell,

When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school

Look in at the open door;

They love to see the flaming forge,

And hear the bellows roar,

And watch the burning sparks that fly

Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church.

And sits among his boys;

He hears the parson pray and preach,

He hears his daughter's voice,

Singing in the village choir,

And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,

Singing in Paradise!

He needs must think of her once more,

How in the grave she lies;

And with his hard, rough hand he wipes

A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling, -rejoicing, -sorrowing,

Onward through life he goes;

Each morning sees some task begin,

Each evening sees it close;

Something attempted, something done,

Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,

For the lesson thou hast taught!

Thus at the flaming forge of life

Our fortunes must be wrought;

Thus on its sounding avail shaped

Each burning deed and thought! 

Summary: The village Smithy stands under a chestnut tree. The blacksmith is an honest and strong man having muscular arms and crisp, black hair. He works hard from morning to evening using his heavy sledge. While returning from school, the children like to catch the burning sparks. The blacksmith goes to Church on Sunday. His daughter sings songs that sounds like her mother's voice. We have to learn from him that we can reshape our fate by working hard.

The Owl: Lord Tennyson

When cats run home and light is come,

And dew is cold upon the ground,

And the far-off stream is dumb,

And the whirring sail goes round,

And the whirring sail goes round :

Alone and warming his five wits,

The white owl in the belfry sits.

When merry milkmaids click the latch,

And rarely smells the new-mown hay,

And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch

Twice or thrice his roundelay,

Twice or thrice his roundelay :

Alone and warming his five wits,

The white owl in the belfry sits.

Summary: In this poem, ‘The Owl,’ the poet Lord Tennyson describes about the owl. The nocturnal owl has an omniscient force who watches and knows everything in his surroundings. When cats run home, dew is cold upon the ground, and the sound of windmills goes round, then the white owl sits on a part of tower and watches everything by using his five senses or powers. When merry milkmaids close gates and the cock sings a song twice or thrice under the house roof, then the white owl sits on a part of tower and observes all the things by using his five wits or senses.

Daffodils: William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-

A poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company:

I gazed – and gazed – but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude,

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Summary: In this poem, ‘Daffodils,’ the poet William Wordsworth describes about the beauty of nature. Once, alone, he was wandering beside a lake. That time a cloud was floating in the sky over valleys and hills. Suddenly he saw a field of golden daffodils beside the lake under the trees. The airy breeze made them wave and dance. They stretch all along the shore till the stars shine and twinkle on the milky way. Though the waves of the lake danced beside the daffodils, the daffodils beat the waves in delight. In this situation, the poet became happy with a joyful company of daffodils. He stared and stared but did not understand the value of the scene. But now when is bored or melancholy, he often thinks of them. The memory of their beauty fills his heart with pleasure.

A Night in June: William Wordsworth

The sun has long been set,

The stars are out by twos and threes,

The little birds are piping yet

Among the bushes and trees;

There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,

And a far-off wind that rushes,

And a sound of water that gushes,

And the cuckoo's sovereign cry

Fills all the hollow of the sky.

Summary: In this poem, 'A Night in June,' the poet William Wordsworth describes about the beautiful night of summer in London. In June, the sun took long time to set. That time two or three stars are coming out, little birds are chirping among the bushes and trees. One or two song birds and a cuckoo are singing. A far-off blowing wind and flowing water make sound. All the spaces of the sky fill up by these beautiful things. 

The Kitten At Play: William Wordsworth

See the kitten on the wall,

Sporting with the leaves that fall,

Withered leaves, one, two, and three

Falling from the elder-tree,

Through the calm and frosty air

Of the morning bright and fair.

See the kitten, how she starts,

Crouches, stretches, paws and darts;

With a tiger-leap half way

Now she meets her coming prey.

Lets it go as fast and then

Has it in her power again.

Now she works with three and four,

Like an Indian conjuror;

Quick as he in feats of art;

Gracefully she plays her part;

Yet were gazing thousands there,

What would little Tabby care?

Summary: In this poem, ‘The Kitten at Play,’ the poet William Wordsworth describes about the kitten which is taking preparation to prey. The poet calls us to see the activities of the kitten before prey. The kitten was playing on the wall with the falling leaves. In the bright and fair morning, these leaves fall from the elder tree. The kitten bend down, stretch and goes half-way with a tiger–leap. When she comes near to her prey, she runs fast and jump on her prey. She elegantly plays her part like an Indian magician. She does not care anyone, though thousands were gazing there.

The Rainbow: William Wordsworth

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

Summary: In this poem, 'The Rainbow,' the poet William Wordsworth describes about the appearance of the rainbow and expresses his desire to pass his days with the great respect for nature. The poet’s heart becomes full of pleasure when he looks at the rainbow. The appearance of the rainbow always remains unchanged. When the poet was born, the rainbow was there. It remains there, when he is young. It will be there, when will grow old or when he will die. Like the rainbow, our life is connected with our past, present and future. Today's child will be tomorrow's father. So, he wants goodness every day.

To Daffodils: Robert Herrick

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 

You haste away so soon; 

As yet the early-rising sun 

Has not attain'd his noon. 

Stay, stay, 

Until the hasting day 

Has run 

But to the even-song; 

And, having pray'd together, we 

Will go with you along. 

We have short time to stay, as you, 

We have as short a spring; 

As quick a growth to meet decay, 

As you, or anything. 

We die 

As your hours do, and dry 

Away, 

Like to the summer's rain; 

Or as the pearls of morning's dew, 

Ne'er to be found again. 

Summary: In this poem, ‘To Daffodil’, the poet Robert Herrick compares human life with the life of daffodils. He is so sad because the life of daffodil is very short. He has struck a note of mourning at the fast dying of daffodils. The poet asks the daffodils to stay until the day ends with the evening prayer. After praying together he wants to go with them because like the daffodils, men also have a very transient life. Men have short spring or youth which ends up very quickly. Their life is as short as the rain of the summer season which comes for a very short time and the dew-drops in the morning which vanish away and never come back.

Pippa Passes: Robert Browning

The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn:
God's in His heaven—
All's right with the world!

Summary: In this poem, the poet Robert Browning describes about God’s flawless governing. In an early spring morning, the grass on the hill sides is wet with dew-drops, the larks are singing and flying, the snails are feeding on the thorn. Everything around is beautiful and good because God is looking after all these things. 

Winter The Huntsman: Osbert Sitwell

Through his iron glades

Rides Winter the Huntsman,

All colour fades

As his horn is heard sighing.

Far through the forest

His wild hooves crash and thunder,

Till many a mighty branch

Is torn asunder.

And the red reynard creeps

To his hole near the river,

The copper leaves fall

And the bare trees shiver.

As night creeps from the ground,

Hides each tree from its brother,

And each dying sound

Reveals yet another.

Is it Winter the Huntsman

Who gallops through his iron glades,

Cracking his cruel whip

To the gathering shades?

Summary: In this poem, 'Winter The Huntsman,' the poet Osbert Sitwell describes about Winter The Huntsman who rides on his noble steed in the middle of the forest during winter to search for his next prey. That time all colours are fading as he runs through his iron glades. His horn is heard sighing while he is running through the cold wind. The crash and thunder of wild hooves heard from far away until mighty branches are divided. The red reynard moves to its hole near the river, the copper leaves fall and the bare trees shiver during that time. When night comes each tree hides from others, but at the same time each dying sound reveals another.

The Road Not Taken: Robert Frost

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.

Summary: ‘The Road Not Taken’ written by Robert Frost is a nice poem depicting the minds of the modern men. Here dilemma which is a common feature of a modern man is nicely shown. Through the traveler, the poet shows the indecisive aspects of the people. A common or an ordinary person normally takes or follows the much trodden path whereas the modern traveller takes the less trodden one. Finally, we also see that the traveler does not bother for undergoing the risk of his life.

Silver: Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

Of doves in sliver feathered sleep

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Summary: In this poem, 'Silver,' the poet Walter de la Mare describes the visible effects of moon light on countryside at night. As the moon walks silently over the human settlements below everything turns silver. It moves over the trees, making them appear silver. The silver beams of moon is reflecting on the window. It is also reflecting off the sleeping dog's paws in the dog house. The moon is reflecting off the sleeping doves' chest. It is also reflecting on harvest mouse's claws and eyes which is running. The motionless fish and water of a stream turn silver by the moon light.

When Icicles Hang: William Shakespeare

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,

When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl:-

To-whit ! To-who !

A merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Summary: In this poem, ‘When Icicles Hang,’ the poet William Shakespeare criticizes the winter season. When winter comes it brings several influences. The walls are covered with ice. Dick, the shepherd breathes his fingernails to warm them. Tom carries wood to the fireplace. Milk freezes as soon as it is poured into the pail. The blood of living creatures comes to freeze. The roads are covered by the snow and become muddy. The staring owl sings a happy song at night while Joan, the cook prepares steaming soup to keep the family members warm.

The Tyger: William Blake

Tyger Tyger, burning bright, 

In the forests of the night; 

What immortal hand or eye, 

Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

In what distant deeps or skies. 

Burnt the fire of thine eyes? 

On what wings dare he aspire? 
What the hand, dare seize the fire? 

And what shoulder, & what art, 

Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 

And when thy heart began to beat, 

What dread hand? & what dread feet? 

What the hammer? what the chain, 

In what furnace was thy brain? 

What the anvil? what dread grasp, 

Dare its deadly terrors clasp! 

When the stars threw down their spears 

And water'd heaven with their tears: 

Did he smile his work to see? 

Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 

Tyger Tyger burning bright, 

In the forests of the night: 

What immortal hand or eye, 

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Summary: The poem namely, ‘The Tyger’ is a nice piece of writing by William Blake. Here, the poet describes the power and body structure of the powerful tiger. After the nightfall the tiger looks very dazzling if any sort of light falls on it. The poet also asks many questions to the tiger regarding its Maker. Also the poet asks the tiger whether the Creator of the tiger and that of the lamb is the same. Through this vivid and lively description of the tiger and its power, the poet actually intends to glorify the power of the Almighty Who has created both the powerful and the feeble creatures of the Universe.

Winter Evening: T. S. Eliot

The winter evening settles down

With smell of steaks in passageways.

Six o'clock.

The burnt-out ends of smoky days.

And now a gusty shower wraps

The grimy scraps

Of withered leaves about your feet

Ans newspapers from vacant lots;

The showers beat

On broken blinds and chimney-pots,

And at the corner of the street

A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.

And then the lightning of the lamps.

Summary: ‘Winter Evening’ written by T. S. Eliot is a nice poem depicting the picture of one winter evening. During a winter evening, the smell of steaks dinner is wafting through the street. The time is six o’clock. The city lost its all energy. Strong, windy raining washed-up the dirty environment and the dying leave. Parking lots are empty, everyone has gone home, and newspapers are left behind. Steady raindrops hitting on the surface of broken blinds and chimney-pots. There is a lonely cab-horse at the corner of the street. It is waiting there to pause our walk through the city. Evening is turning into night. Everyone light their lamps.