His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Beneath the shady trees
And listen to the song of birds
And to the buzz of bees.

I love to sit in silence
And watch the Clouds roll by
Then read a book or sing a song
And hear the wild bird cry.

I love to sit in silence
When the day is almost done
And see behind the distant hill
The paint glow of the sun.

I love to sit in silence 
In the evening twilight
And listen to the whippor-will
Singing with all its might.

I love to sit in silence 
beneath the Starry sky

And pray to all in earnest

To live in silence all the while.

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

While nightly stars are burning;

While evening pours its silent dew,

And sunshine gilds the morning.

There should be no despair--though tears

May flow down like a river:

Are not the best beloved of years

Around your heart for ever?

They weep, you weep, it must be so;

Winds sigh as you are sighing,

And winter sheds its grief in snow

Where Autumn's leaves are lying:

Yet, these revive, and from their fate

Your fate cannot be parted:

Then, journey on, if not elate,

Still, never broken-hearted!

      Black as the pit from pole to pole, 

I thank whatever gods may be 

      For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 

      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 

Under the bludgeonings of chance 

      My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 

      Looms but the Horror of the shade, 

And yet the menace of the years 

      Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

      How charged with punishments the scroll, 

I am the master of my fate, 

      I am the captain of my soul.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

That all which makes your body
Was once part of something more
And every breath you ever breathe
Has seen it all before.

There are countless scores of beauty 
In all the things that you despise
It could once have been a shooting star
That now makes up your thighs.

And atoms of forgotten life
Who’ve long since ceased to roam
May now have the great honour
To call your crooked smile their home.

You may not believe in magic
But I thought that you should know
The makings of your heart were born
Fourteen billion years ago.

So the next time you feel lonely 
When this world makes you feel small
Just remember that it’s part of you
And you’re part of it all.