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There is a house now far away where onceI received love……. That woman died,The house withdrew into silence, snakes movedAmong books, I was then too youngTo read, and my blood turned cold like the moonHow often I think of goingThere,… Read More »My Grandmother’s House by Kamala Das

I don’t know politics but I know the names Of those in power, and can repeat them like Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru. I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar, I speak three languages,… Read More »An Introduction by Kamala Das

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which… Read More »Death be not Proud by John Donne

As the slave departs, the Man returns- Campbell How felt he when he first was told A slave he ceased to be How proudly beat his heart, when first He knew that he was free! To noblest feelings of the… Read More »Freedom to the Slave by Henry Derozio

Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school boys and sour prentices, Go tell court huntsmen that… Read More »The Sun Rising by John Donne

One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey. “Vain man,” said she, “that… Read More »One Day I wrote her name (Sonnet LXXV from Amoretti) by Edmund Spenser

Sweet warrior when shall I have peace with you?High time it is, this war now ended were:Which I no longer can endure to sue,Ne your incessant battery more to bear:So weak my powers, so sore my wounds appear,That wonder is… Read More »Sweet Warrior (Sonnet 57 from Amoretti) by Edmund Spenser

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and… Read More »Sonnet 116 – William Shakespeare

When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past,I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:Then can I drown an eye, unus’d to flow,For… Read More »Sonnet 30 – William Shakespeare