Robert Frost

A Time to Talk
WHEN a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Flower-Gathering
I left you in the morning,
And in the morning glow,
You walked a way beside me
To make me sad to go.
Do you know me in the gloaming,
Gaunt and dusty gray with roaming?
Are you dumb because you know me not,
Or dumb because you know?

All for me And not a question
For the faded flowers gay
That could take me from beside you
For the ages of a day?
They are yours, and be the measure
Of their worth for you to treasure,
The measure of the little while
That I've been long away.

The Road Not Taken
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 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.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
WHOSE woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Emily Dickinson
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd banish us-you know!

How dreary-to be-Somebody!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell one's name-the livelong day-
To an admiring Bog!

The Grass so little has to do
The Grass so little has to do -
A Sphere of simple Green -
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain -
And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along -
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything -
And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls -
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing -
And even when it dies - to pass
In Odors so divine -
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep -
Or Spikenards, perishing -
And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell -
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay -

E. E. Cummings
old age sticks

old age sticks
up Keep
Off
signs)&

youth yanks them
down(old
age
cries No


Tres)&(pas)
youth laughs
(sing
old age

scolds Forbid
den Stop
Must
n't Don't


&)youth goes
right on
gr
owing old

Pauli Murray

Words

We are spendthrifts with words,
We squander them,
Toss them like pennies in the air-
Arrogant words,
Angry words,
Cruel words,
Comradely words,
Shy words tiptoeing from mouth to ear.

But the slowly wrought words of love
And the thunderous words
of heartbreak--
These we hoard.

Other Favorites:
Some short stories/plays Mrs. Garner enjoyed teaching for seventh grade literature:

"Nancy" by Elizabeth Enright

"All Summer In A Day" by Ray Bradbury

"President Cleveland, Where Are You?" by Robert Cormier

"The Circuit" by Francisco Jiménez

"A Man Who Had No Eyes" by MacKinlay Kantor

"The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street" by Rod Serling