Finish Strong: Poems to Pass in Class

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain. If you liked this poem or you'd like to share a poem to appear on our website,  let us know by filling out this form!

There was a time I could say no one I knew well had died. This is not to suggest no one died. When I was eight my mother became pregnant. She went to the hospital to give birth and returned without the baby. Where’s the baby? we asked. Did she shrug? She was the kind of woman who liked to shrug; deep within her was an everlasting shrug. That didn’t seem like a death. The years went by and people only died on television—if they weren’t Black, they were wearing black or were terminally ill. Then I returned home from school one day and saw my father sitting on the steps of our home. He had a look that was unfamiliar; it was flooded, so leaking. I climbed the steps as far away from him as I could get. He was breaking or broken. Or, to be more precise, he looked to me like someone understanding his aloneness. Loneliness. His mother was dead. I’d never met her. It meant a trip back home for him. When he returned he spoke neither about the airplane nor the funeral. Every movie I saw while in ...

Is anybody happier because you passed his way?      Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today? This day is almost over, and its toiling time is through;      Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you? Did you give a cheerful greeting to the friend who came along?      Or a churlish sort of "Howdy" and then vanish in the throng? Were you selfish pure and simple as you rushed along the way,      Or is someone mighty grateful for a deed you did today? Can you say tonight, in parting with the day that's slipping fast,      That you helped a single brother of the many that you passed? Is a single heart rejoicing over what you did or said;      Does a man whose hopes were fading now with courage look ahead? Did you waste the day, or lose it, was it well or sorely spent?      Did you leave a trail of kindness or a scar of discontent? As you close your eyes in slumber do you t...

 You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard ’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I'm a b...

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, And the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and the debts are high, And you want to smile, but you have to sigh, When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest if you must, but don't you quit. Life is queer with its twists and turns, As every one of us sometimes learns. And many a failure turns about When he might have won had he stuck it out. Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You may succeed with another blow. Often the goal is nearer than it seems To a faint and faltering man. Often the struggler has given up when he Might have captured the victor's cup, And he learned too late when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown. Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint of the clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are. It may be near when it seems afar. So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit. It's when things seem worst that You musn’t ...

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,      Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers,      And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest!      And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest,      Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,      Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow      Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting,      And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating      Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle,      In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle!      Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!      Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,— act in the living Present!      Heart w...