To shut her up in a sepulchre
RIC IVAN MIRANDA In this kingdom by the sea.
TVL - ICT 11
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes! —that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind
came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and
killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the
love
ANNABEL LEE Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE / AMERICAN And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea, Can
It was many and many a year ago, ever dissever my soul from the soul Of
In a kingdom by the sea, the beautiful Annabel Lee:
That a maiden there lived whom you may
know For the moon never beams, without bringing
By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And
she lived with no other
the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of
thought
the beautiful Annabel Lee;
Than to love and be loved by me.
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
of my darling—my darling—my life and my
I was a child and she was a child,
bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea, In her
In this kingdom by the sea:
tomb by the sounding sea.
But we loved with a love that was more than
love—
https://poets.org/poem/annabel-lee
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
THE RHODORA
BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON /
AMERICAN
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,
I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To
please the desert and the sluggish brook.
The purple petals fallen in the pool
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to
cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell
them, dear, that, if eyes were made for seeing,
Then beauty is its own excuse for Being; Why
thou wert there, O rival of the rose!
I never thought to ask; I never knew;
But in my simple ignorance suppose
The self-same power that brought me there,
brought you.
https://emersoncentral.com/texts/poems/th e-
rhodora/
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
THE RAINY DAY
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW /
AMERICAN
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is
dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
https://allpoetry.com/The-Rainy-Day
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
Sonnet 18
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE/ENGLISH
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of
May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course
untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/4
5087/sonnet-18-shall-i-compare-thee-to-asummers-
day
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE/ENGLISH
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.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/4
5521/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
How Do I Love Thee?
BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING / English
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and
height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God
choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
https://poets.org/poem/how-do-i-love-theesonnet-43
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in
flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with
blinding sight
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be
GOOD NIGHT gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
BY DYLAN THOMAS/ENGLISH
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Do not go gentle into that good night, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; pray.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is
right, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/4
Because their words had forked no lightning 6569/do-not-go-gentle-into-that-good-night
they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how
bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a
green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
INVICTUS
BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY /
ENGLISH
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/5
1642/invictus
RIC IVAN MIRANDA
TVL - ICT 11
Out of the depth less matrix of your faith
In us, and on the silent cliffs of freedom,
We carve for all time your marmoreal dream!
Until our people, seeing, are become
Like the molave, firm, resilent, staunch,
Rising on the hillside, unafraid,
Strong in its own fiber, yes, like the molave!
LIKE THE MOLAVE https://johannasagario.blogspot.com/2016/
BY RAFAEL ZULUETA DA COSTA
0 5/like-molave-by-rafael-zulueta-da-
Not yet, Rizal, not yet. Sleep not in peace: costa.html
There are a thousand waters to be spanned;
There are a thousand mountains to be
crossed;
There are a thousand crosses to be borne.
Our shoulders are not strong; our sinews are
Grown flaccid with dependence, smug with
ease
Under another’s wing. Rest not in peace;
Not yet, Rizal, not yet. The land has need Of
young blood-and, what younger than your
own,
Forever spilled in the great name of freedom,
Forever oblate on the altar of
The free? Not you alone, Rizal. O souls
And spirits of the martyred brave, arise!
Arise and scour the land! Shed once again
Your willing blood! Infuse the vibrant red
Into our thin anemic veins; until
We pick up your Promethean tools and,
strong,
