Unit 3: Part 2 Vocabulary

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Cat!
Scat!
After her, after her,
Sleeky flatterer,
Spitfire chatterer,
Scatter her, scatter her
Off her mat!

My signature,
thumbing the pages of my time.
My universe key,
my singularity.

Imprint my mark upon the world,
whatever I shall become.

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A traveling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.

The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A traveling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.

Tough gray-skinned monsters standing ponderous,
Elephant-bellied and elephant-nosed,
Standing in muck up to their wheel-caps,
Like rows of elephants, tail trunk.

Concrete mixers
Move like elephants
Bellow like elephants
Spray like elephants,
Concrete mixers are urban elephants,
Their trunks are raising a city.

Come,
Let us roam the night together
Singing.

Night sky is blue.
Stars are great drops
Of golden dew.

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Then he climbed to the tower of the Old North Church,
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,—

And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,—
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

She spoke a tongue I knew no word of,
and I was sad I could not understand,
but I could hug her.

your little voice
Over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
dizzy
With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers

Looked up
with impertinently exquisite faces
floating hands were laid upon me

Looked up
with impertinently exquisite faces
floating hands were laid upon me

Pollen
is borne
on wind
that low
and lean
upon
mountains.

Meadows
recede
through planes
of heat
and pure
distance.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all
exulting