From Clee to heaven the beacon burns

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

About suffering they were never wrong

The bells of waiting Advent ring

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough

Walking from school is a consummate art

Is there for honesty poverty

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face

And for auld lang syne, my jo

When chapman billies leave the street

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim’rous beastie

White founts falling in the Courts of the sun

here in this transport

Do not go gentle into that good night

It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black

A cold coming we had of it

The art of losing isn’t hard to master

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame

Alles Vergängliche / Ist nur ein Gleichnis

Tell me not, in mournful numbers

Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty

Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art

’Twas brillig and the slithy toves

Abide with me: fast falls the eventide

Side by side, their faces blurred

Once I am sure there's nothing going on

Dockery was junior to you

I thought it would last my time

That Whitsun, I was late getting away

They fuck you up, your mum and dad

Why should I let the toad work / Squat on my life?

We astronomers are nomads

O, to be in England / Now that April's there

There once was a Square, such a square little Square

God bless all policemen

You may talk o' gin and beer

If you can keep your head when all about you

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea

God of our fathers, known of old

Land of our birth, we pledge to thee

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride

I've taken my fun where I've found it

They shut the road through the woods

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer

If I should die, think only this of me

Joy, thou beauteous godly lightning

Fear no more the heat of the sun

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes

Full many a glorious morning have I seen

Not marble, nor the gilded monuments

EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face

I met a traveller from an antique land

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!

’Twas midnight in the schoolroom

Young are our dead

Stasis in darkness

Because I do not hope to turn again

Time present and time past

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw

The broad-backed hippopotamus / Rests on his belly in the mud

We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men

Let us go then, you and I

April is the cruellest month, breeding

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day

Though my mother was already two years dead

Next millennium you'll have to search quite hard

I walk through the long schoolroom questioning

The unpurged images of day recede

I made my song a coat / covered with embroideries

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

That is no country for old men. The young

The jester walked in the garden

The cat went here and there

Because time will not run backwards

Higgledy-piggledy / Emily Dickinson

We make more fuss of ballads than of blueprints

Awake! for Morning on the Pitch of Night

The expense of spirits is a crying shame

Here is Peter. Here is Jane. They like fun.

The cherry blossom / in my neighbors garden - Oh!

I used to think all poets were Byronic

People tell you all the time / Poems do not have to rhyme

In April one seldom feels cheerful

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

Love seeketh not itself to please

Out of the night that covers me

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!