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      Re: English Poetry Collection

      Aubade
      HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
      And Phoebus 'gins arise,
      His steeds to water at those springs
      On chaliced flowers that lies;
      And winking Mary-buds begin
      To ope their golden eyes:
      With everything that pretty bin,
      My lady sweet, arise!
      Arise, arise!
      William Shakespeare





      DonT Wanna Say AnythinG!!!
      ​​​​
      Don’t PLAY With Me
      Coz I know
      I Can PLAY Better Than You.

      kayra~

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      Re: English Poetry Collection

      my fav poetry


      “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!”
      ― Rudyard Kipling, If: A Father's Advice to His Son


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