What poems should every man know off by heart?

[Anonymous No.16391786]

[Anonymous No.16391805]

>>16391786
I'll read my children poetry starting at a young age.

What would you suggest?

[Anonymous No.16391812]

The Tyger - Blake
The Tiger - Nael

[Anonymous No.16392150]

The Lord is my Shepard

[Anonymous No.16392158]

>>16391786
Ozymandias (unironically)

[Anonymous No.16392326]

>>16391786
Trilce III — César Vallejo

[Anonymous No.16392372]

Flanders fields

[Anonymous No.16392377]

Invictus

[Anonymous No.16392409]

Roses are red...

[Anonymous No.16392480]

Violets are blue...

[Anonymous No.16392490]

>>16391786
The five I have memorized are:
Break, Break, Break by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron
Ozymandias by Percy Shelley
The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats
Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I have a lot more verses memorized, but these are the ones I can recite upon request with no hesitation. A lot of these are baby's first canonical poems, but I think having them set to memory is important.

[Anonymous No.16392500]

This Be the Verse
That Catullus one

[Anonymous No.16392855]

Love Sosa - Chief Keef

[Anonymous No.16392904]

>>16391786
>>16391805
Every man by the time he is 18 should be able to recount by heart every single line of The Iliad, The Odyssey, The Aeneid, Beowulf, The Song of Roland, and Idylls of the King.
If you do not provide your children with this essential life skill you are guilty of child abuse.

[Anonymous No.16393063]

O Captain! My Captain!

[Anonymous No.16393069]

>>16391805
Silverstein for really young children. Then Kipling (Kipling's Gunga Din and Tommy are two of my favorite poems despite their simplicity).

[Anonymous No.16393076]

>That Catullus one
Impeccable taste

I will sodomize you and face-fuck you,
cocksucker Aurelius and bottom bitch Furius,
who think, from my little verses,
because they're a little soft, that I have no shame.
For it is right for the devoted poet to be chaste
himself, but it's not necessary for his verses to be so.
[Verses] which then indeed have taste and charm,
If they are delicate and have no shame,
And because they can incite an itch,
And I don't mean in boys, but in
Those hairy men who can't move their loins.
You, because [about] my many thousands of kisses
You've read, you think me less of a man?
I will sodomize you and face-fuck you.

[Anonymous No.16393391]

>>16391786
hickory dickory dock

[Anonymous No.16393401]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Into My Heart an Air That Kills
Dulce et Decorum Est

[Anonymous No.16393419]

>>16392158
not ironically?

[Anonymous No.16393435]

row row row your boat
gently down the stream
merrily merrily merrily
life is but a dream.

[Anonymous No.16393447]

>>16392372
kek

[Anonymous No.16394685]

>>16392904
So you're saying you were abused as a child for not being forced to recount a shit ton of poems... let me think... you're a retard

[Anonymous No.16394910]

>>16391786
>What poems should every man know off by heart?
Depends on the man. That said, poems with strong traditional form are much easier to memorize.

IF
By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!

[Because this movie is golden. No.16395034]

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

[Anonymous No.16395094]

>>16392158
Why did you feel the need to precise that you recommended Ozymandias unironically?
Is there some retarded meme about this poem I'm not aware of?
It's a fantastic poem in every way.

[Anonymous No.16395106]

>>16395094
Possibly because it's part of the GCSE (anglo year 10/11 education) english course. Turns out forcing anglo zoomers that don't really like reading to read great literature and poetry doesn't make them like it anymore, many just end up disliking it

[Anonymous No.16395117]

>>16395106
thanks america

[Anonymous No.16395119]

>>16394910
This. I've memorized it when I was 14. I understood it's meaning deeply when I was 20
and I'm in love with it ever since.

[Anonymous No.16395121]

>>16391786
Die Bürgschaft

[Anonymous No.16395126]

The Legend of Mirth - Rudyard Kipling.

[Anonymous No.16395127]

>>16391812
Yes, YES!

[Anonymous No.16395128]

>>16394910
This

[Anonymous No.16395139]

This thread needs more poems, so here they are:

>>16391812
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?

>>16392158
>Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

>Smith
In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:—
"I am great OZYMANDIAS," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
The wonders of my hand."— The City's gone,—
Naught but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.

We wonder,—and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.

[Anonymous No.16395146]

>>16392326
>>16392326
Las personas mayores
¿a qué hora volverán?
Da las seis el ciego Santiago,
y ya está muy oscuro.

Madre dijo que no demoraría.

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel,
cuidado con ir por ahí, por donde
acaban de pasar gangueando sus memorias
dobladoras penas,
hacia el silencioso corral, y por donde
las gallinas que se están acostando todavía,
se han espantado tanto.
Mejor estemos aquí no más.
Madre dijo que no demoraría.

Ya no tengamos pena. Vamos viendo
los barcos ¡el mío es más bonito de todos!
con los cuales jugamos todo el santo día,
sin pelearnos, como debe de ser:
han quedado en el pozo de agua, listos,
fletados de dulces para mañana.

Aguardemos así, obedientes y sin más
remedio, la vuelta, el desagravio
de los mayores siempre delanteros
dejándonos en casa a los pequeños,
como si también nosotros no pudiésemos partir.

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel?
Llamo, busco al tanteo en la oscuridad.
No me vayan a haber dejado solo,
y el único recluso sea yo.

>>16392372
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

>>16392377
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.

[Anonymous No.16395165]

>>16395139
nice, i actually didnt know about Smith's version of Ozymandias. actually makes me realize that it's this version that Joanna Newsom uses in one of her songs.

[Anonymous No.16395282]

>>16392500
>>16393076
Based taste anons.

[Anonymous No.16395315]

>>16391786
Do not go gentle into that good night

[Anonymous No.16395472]

>>16391786
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy lamb of god
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem built here
Amongst these dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear, o clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.

[Anonymous No.16395505]

Anything that will make them more hardworking, docile and unquestioning
>>16392377 and >>16394910 are good shouts

[Anonymous No.16396111]

>>16391786
the illiad

[Anonymous No.16396151]

>>16395165
She's actually playing with both versions of the poem throughout the song.

[Anonymous No.16396813]

>>16396151
Yeah, "look and despair" is only in Shelley's version.

[Anonymous No.16396933]

>>16391786
Pick 10 KJV Psalms
Pick 5 Shakespeare sonnets
Milton's Nativity ode and first 50 or do lines of PL
Marvell's Mower poems
Pick 5 Byron lyrics
Keats's When I have fears..
Shelley's Lift not the Painted Veil
Wordsworth's It is a beauteous evening
Coleridge's Lime Tree Bower
Whitman's Lilacs
and at least 20 Dickinson poems
>This is what I've got, at any rate