"She Walks in Beauty" 1814
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She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.2
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which thoughts serenly sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place. 3
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent! George Gordon, Lord Byron |
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"She's the Girl"
She's the girl I love
Not too pretty but cute enough
I love her for who she is
Her sweet voice and charming face
Her pretty smile has always put laughter on my face
Her tender kiss and gentle touch
Make me feel so much
Her caring and loving soul
Never let me cold
This is what she's all 'bout.
But
Now that she's gone
I think back and missed her song
I could see images of us together
It would never get so better
How sad I must have felt
When she left and let my heart melt.
@ Tin Nguyen Jan. 2001
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"The Couple"
A woman and
A man,
Walk hands
In hands.
They come to
A near by dam,
Their lives
Would never
Be the same.@ Tin Nguyen 10-09-01
"Richard Cory" 1897
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean in favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich--yes, richer than a king-
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Edwin Arlington Robinson
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"Untitle"
The night is quiet
The light is dimmed
Writing poetry has always been a dream.
Looking up words in the Bedford handbook
In my hand is just a Sanford pen
Vocabulary runs through my mind
But they don't seem to shine or rhyme.
So, I give up, just for now
And wait 'till the right words come about
And when they come, they come with style
And that is when this poem is written out.
@ Tin Nguyen 10-10-01
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