American PoetsEmily Dickinson – Walt Whitman – Edgar Allan Poe

“Because I Could Not Stop for Death” Emily DickinsonBecause I could not stop for Death –He kindly stopped for me –The Carriage held but just Ourselves –And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no hasteAnd I had put awayMy labor and my leisure too,For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children stroveAt Recess – in the Ring –We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –The Dews drew quivering and Chill –For only Gossamer, my Gown –My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemedA Swelling of the Ground –The Roof was scarcely visible –The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yetFeels shorter than the DayI first surmised the Horses' HeadsWere toward Eternity –

“I heard a Fly buzz When I Died” Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz - when I died -The Stillness in the RoomWas like the Stillness in the Air -Between the Heaves of Storm -

The Eyes around - had wrung them dry -And Breaths were gathering firmFor that last Onset - when the KingBe witnessed - in the Room -

I willed my Keepsakes - Signed awayWhat portion of me beAssignable - and then it wasThere interposed a Fly -

With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -Between the light - and me -And then the Windows failed - and thenI could not see to see -

“A Noiseless Patient Spider” Walt Whitman

A noiseless patient spider,I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

“When I Heard the Learned Astronomer” Walt Whitman

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the

lecture-room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

“I Hear America Singing” Walt Whitman

• I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,• Those of mechanics, each one singing

his as it should be blithe and strong,• The carpenter singing his as he

measures his plank or beam,• The mason singing his as he makes

ready for work, or leaves off work,• The boatman singing what belongs to

him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,• The shoemaker singing as he sits on his

bench, the hatter singing as he stands,

• The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,• The delicious singing of the mother, or

of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,• Each singing what belongs to him or

her and to none else,• The day what belongs to the day—at

night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,• Singing with open mouths their strong

melodious songs.