Can you name the poet who wrote the line, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood"? Of course, it's Robert Frost and the poem is "The Road Not Taken." I would like to start a game that might require a little Googling but would be fun, entertaining, and educational. Here's how it works:

I will start by quoting a line from poem, and then the next poster simply tells the poet's name and title of the poem. Sometimes you will know the line immediately, but other times you will need to Google it. That's perfectly fine! That way you will learn who wrote the line, if you did not know. After you answer, you place a quotation on, and so on. It's also OK to look up quotations to place on the forum.

Let see if this will work! Since I've never tried it before, I don't know, but I thought it's worth a try. So I'll start.

Here is the line, "It powders all the Wood." Who is the poet? What is the title of the poem?

Thanks for playing!

I think this will be fun. By playing the game, I can learn lots of poems.

Answer:
Emily Dickinson, "It Sifts from Leaden Sieves".

Next:
Here is the line, "The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs." Who is the poet? What is the title of the poem?

Thanks, Sandra! I can learn too. Had to look this one up.

Answer: Ralph Waldo Emerson's "Transition"

Next: Title of poem, name of poet?
"When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table"

Next: Title of poem, name of poet?
"When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table"

TS Eliot, The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

I remember reading this in an English class and being drawn to it, but also completely mystified. Love the rhythm of the very simple first line . . . Let us go then, you and I

Next: Title of poem, name of poet?
"Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo's calling"

Thank you for playing, Mona! Yes, "Prufrock" is a fascinating poem.

"Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo's calling"
Answer: Christina Rossetti's "Dirge"

Next: Title of poem? Name of poet?
"Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list'ning skies"

"Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list'ning skies"

Answer: Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson

It is interesting that it is a hymn. I never thought of poetry in that way before.

Next:
Half monarch, half shadow, the tree aspires to the sky

"Half monarch, half shadow, the tree aspires to the sky"
Answer: "Horses on the Grass" by Grace Schulman
What an interesting technique! You think it's going to be about horses, and you float right over the foreshadowing line about the silver maple. Great find, Sandra! I posted it to Facebook because it reminded me of the silver maple my sister and I grew up with. Unfortunately, it died recently. Sad for both of us. Especially for her because she still lives on the farm where we grew up, and she sees its stump every day!

Next:

my cat met me
and licked my fins
till they were hands again

"my cat met me
and licked my fins
till they were hands again"

Answer: "On Reading Poems to a Senior Class at South High" by D.C. Berry

I read the paraphrase on this when I looked it up. I had to read it a second time to grasp the meaning.

Next:
"When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears"

I've always loved the playfulness of D. C. Berry's poem. I've always thought it would be a great poem to teach technique in use of metaphor.

"When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears"
Answer: William Blake's "The Tyger"

I recognized the lines but had to look to see which poem it was from.

Next:
"They also serve who only stand and waite."

"They also serve who only stand and waite."

Answer: "On His Blindness" by John Milton

I basically grasp his meaning and I like how he expresses that he has much to give even though he is blind.

Linda Sue, these lines I have a hard time grasping. What is your interpretation?

"And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent"

Next:

"Windows and watermelons march down the street
The air is nobody"

Sandra, here's what I wrote in an article about that poem which appeared on Suite101.com:


Let me know if you need more explanation about those lines.
_________________________________________________

"Windows and watermelons march down the street
The air is nobody"

Answer: "Opportunity" by Robert Winner (the only place I could find this was on Facebook. Nice work, making it more challenging!)

Next:

The records office tracked his diminishing GPA.
He sports a funky education and red dreads.

The records office tracked his diminishing GPA.
He sports a funky education and red dreads.

Answer: "My Son, My Dissident" By Linda Sue Grimes

That was a pleasant surprise, Linda Sue. I found it on poetserv.org.

Next:
No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more

Thought that might surprise you, Sandra!

No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more
Answer: "Robin Hood" by John Keats, who is an amazing phenomenon, died when he was 26! Most poets are just getting started by that age.

Next:
"O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet"

"O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet"
Answer: "Song VII" by Rabindranath Tagore

Ah, the humility and respect when we encounter one who is a master at his/her craft.

Next:
And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass -

And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass -
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass -
Answer: "A Bird came down the Walk" by Emily Dickinson; this is the first one I didn't have to look up! You'd expect better from a poetry expert. Oh, well!

Next:
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Answer: "Leda and the Swan" by William Butler Yeats

Next:

For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Answer: Shakespeare's Macbeth

Next:
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

__________________________________
This game is so much fun, even though it's simple. I'm really enjoying it. Thanks for playing, Sandra! Maybe others will join in eventually.

"A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!"

Answer: "If thou must love me..." (Sonnet 14) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Next:

"for the poem he writes is the act of always being awake, better than anything"

"for the poem he writes is the act of always being awake, better than anything"
Answer: Ron Padgett's "Grasshopper"

next:
"I, the teacher, the old maid, the virgin heart,
Who made them all my children."

"I, the teacher, the old maid, the virgin heart,
Who made them all my children."

Answer: "Emily Sparks" by Edgar Lee Masters

Next:


Let midnight call the cold dogs home,
sleet in their fur—last one can blow

the streetlights out.

Let midnight call the cold dogs home,
sleet in their fur—last one can blow

the streetlights out.
Answer:Conrad Hilberry's "Christmas Night"

Next: "I hear it in the deep heart’s core"

"I hear it in the deep heart’s core"

Answer: "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" by William Butler Yeats


Next:

I flew to each bedside, still half in a doze,
Tore open the curtains and threw off the clothes,

I flew to each bedside, still half in a doze,
Tore open the curtains and threw off the clothes,
Answer: The Night After Christmas by Anonymous

Next:
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see

Answer: "[little tree]" be E.E. Cummings

I loved this poem. It is now one of my favorites!

Next:

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”

Glad you like the poem, Sandra. It is cute.

In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know
Answer: Thomas Hardy's "The Oxen"

Next:
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Answer: "Sonnet 73" by William Shakespeare

Next:

"Forced to wear a gaudy gold star,
to surrender their pride,
they do their best to look alive."

"Forced to wear a gaudy gold star,
to surrender their pride,
they do their best to look alive."
Answer: Chris Green's "Christmas Tree Lots"

Next:
“He felt some need of softening that to me:
“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”

“He felt some need of softening that to me:
“A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.”

Answer: "Christmas Trees" by Robert Frost

Next:

"Oh, not with statues’ rhetoric,
not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone,"

Oh, not with statues’ rhetoric,
not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone
Answer: Robert Hayden's “Frederick Douglass” -- One of my favorite poets!

Next:
As in sleep - all Hue forgotten -
Tenets - put behind -

As in sleep - all Hue forgotten -
Tenets - put behind -

Answer: "Color - Caste - Denomination - (970)" by Emily Dickinson

Next:

"In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars."

"In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars."
Answer: Walt Whitman's "When I heard the learn'd astronomer"

Next:
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love

Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love

Answer: "An Irish Airman Foresees His Death" by W.B. Yeats

Next:

"A gallery opens when I smile.
Even the forgery gleams."

"A gallery opens when I smile.
Even the forgery gleams."
ANSWER: Lucille Day's "Tooth Painter"

Next:
They find a soul, and their dim moan is wrought
Into a singing sad and beautiful

They find a soul, and their dim moan is wrought
Into a singing sad and beautiful

Answer: "Mountain Pines" by Robinson Jeffers

Next:

"For the right-hand wrist of my cousin who is a policeman. We prayed for the game warden's blindness."

The poem: Opportunity by Robert Winner

Next: The Line

"Calmly to watch the failing breath, Wishing each sigh might be the last"

"For the right-hand wrist of my cousin who is a policeman. We prayed for the game warden's blindness."
ANSWER: James Wright's "Northern Pike"

Next:
The dogs were handsomely provided for,
But shortly afterwards the parrot died too.

Ok, I think I missed a few steps here. Scroll up to mine! LOL

"Calmly to watch the failing breath, Wishing each sigh might be the last"
ANSWER: Charlotte Bronte's "On the Death of Anne Bronte"

NEXT:
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters

Allyson, I'm confused by "The poem: Opportunity by Robert Winner" - I can't find a poem titled "Opportunity" by Robert Winner. Can you give a URL for it? Or tell me where you read it?

Hey LindaSue,

This is where I found it, in reply to Sandra's quote.

Opportunity by Robert Winner

OK. I see now. You were answering Sandra's lines from December 12. I think I needed to think about this game's rules a little more. It can be confusing when people are answering old posts.

Thanks for playing, Allyson. Hope you continue to join Sandra and me. So far, it's been only the two of us. It's nice to have another player.

A snake came to my water-trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat, To drink there. One of my favourites, please read and consider if you do not know it! Cheers Lestie Container Gardening

About suffering they were never wrong, The Old Masters .......... Hi there, Sorry, was eager to put mine there but see I missed answering (had to look it up!) but here it is .......... Musée des Beaux Arts by W. H. Auden

Ok, that is strange!

That was the very first notification I received through my gmail. I did scroll and Sandra's was the last one, so I clicked view and answered.

Very odd! I even pulled it back up through my deleted mail. Sorry kids to confuse you.

Allyson, I guess you were on page one of the game. It's 5 pages long now. Can be confusing for a game that goes on in a linear fashion. Anyway, I'm still glad you're playing.

Hi, Lestie, thank you for joining out little group. We are growing and it is a fun and easy little game.

You're correct; W. H. Auden's "Musée des Beaux Arts" did supply those lines. Now do you have some line to contribute, so someone else may answer it? That's the way it works: someone offers a line or two from a poem, and then the next poster gives the poet and title of the poem from which the lines were taken and then offers some lines for the next poster and so forth. & it's perfectly fine to look them up, if you don't know them. That's the way we learn about new poems.

I see that it can become confusing when readers don't see the end of the line of posts, but maybe it will work itself out.

I'll go ahead and offer a line for now:


Next: "I lift my heavy heart up solemnly"

Lestie, sorry I missed this earlier. Here is the answer to your offering:

A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
ANSWER: D.H. Lawrence's "Snake"

NEXT:
And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.

Ah you clever lady! It is also Snake by D H Lawrence - quoted here in full for ease for all to read, maybe others will like it as much as I do? .......... A snake came to my water-trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat, To drink there..... In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree I came down the steps with my pitcher And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before me...... He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of the stone trough And rested his throat upon the stone bottom, And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness, He sipped with his straight mouth, Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body, Silently..... Someone was before me at my water-trough, And I, like a second comer, waiting..... He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do, And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do, And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment, And stooped and drank a little more, Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking. The voice of my education said to me He must be killed, For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous..... And voices in me said, If you were a man You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off. But must I confess how I liked him, How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless, Into the burning bowels of this earth?..... Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured? I felt so honoured..... And yet those voices: If you were not afraid, you would kill him! And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid, But even so, honoured still more That he should seek my hospitality From out the dark door of the secret earth..... He drank enough And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken, And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black, Seeming to lick his lips, And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air, And slowly turned his head, And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream, Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face..... And as he put his head into that dreadful hole, And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther, A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole, Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after, Overcame me now his back was turned..... I looked round, I put down my pitcher, I picked up a clumsy log And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter. I think it did not hit him, But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste. Writhed like lightning, and was gone Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front, At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination..... And immediately I regretted it. I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act! I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education. And I thought of the albatross And I wished he would come back, my snake..... For he seemed to me again like a king, Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld, Now due to be crowned again. And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords Of life. And I have something to expiate: A pettiness. .......... Thanks from Lestie And now how about : ... Evening by evening Among the brookside rushes, Laura bow’d her head to hear, Lizzie veil’d her blushes ...

Evening by evening Among the brookside rushes, Laura bow’d her head to hear, Lizzie veil’d her blushes
ANSWER: Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market"

NEXT:
Stay, I said
to the cut flowers

Stay, I said
to the cut flowers

Answer: "The Promise" by Jane Hirshfield

Next:

"This time they carry no sorrow,
no remorse, their presence is so light."

"This time they carry no sorrow,
no remorse, their presence is so light."
ANSWER: Marilyn Kallet's "Fireflies"


NEXT:
He heated the flat shovel
in the woodstove till the blade
steamed

Okay, you have stumped me. I cannot find this one anywhere online.

NEXT:
He heated the flat shovel
in the woodstove till the blade
steamed

Oh, sorry! It's Thomas R. Moore's "Removing the Dross " at American Life in Poetry.

I just pasted "He heated the flat shovel" in Google and it popped right up.

OK. Try this one:

We waded in the shallows,
holding his hands

That is so weird. When I tried to google it, I got nothing. Then I googled it after you left the answer and could find it. Must me gremlins in my internet connection. LOL.

We waded in the shallows,
holding his hands

Answer: "A Grandfather" by Marie Thurmer

Next:

If Socrates drank his portion of hemlock willingly,
if the Appalachians have endured unending ages of erosion

I thought I already responded to this, but I can't find it. In addition to the answer and the next quotation, I said something like, "Yes, those gremlins like to keep things interesting . . . and keep us guessing."

If you already saw this, sorry! Those gremlins again? Or maybe I just forgot to click submit.

If Socrates drank his portion of hemlock willingly,
if the Appalachians have endured unending ages of erosion
ANSWER: Campbell McGrath's "Nox Borealis"

NEXT:
It is a real chill out,
The genuine thing

It is a real chill out,
The genuine thing

Answer: A Sunset of the City
BY GWENDOLYN BROOKS

Next:

If the beekeeper doesn’t come chasing behind with a hatchet
I’ll wait behind Cobb’s barn watching the distant houses

If the beekeeper doesn’t come chasing behind with a hatchet
I’ll wait behind Cobb’s barn watching the distant houses
Danniel Schoonebeek's "A Woman in the Sun"

NEXT:
inside my heart
a museum

inside my heart
a museum

Answer: "Poem Without an End" by Yehuda Amichai

Next:

And from that hour did I with earnest thought
Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore

And from that hour did I with earnest thought
Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore
ANSWER: Percy Bysshe Shelley's "The Revolt of Islam"

NEXT:
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay

William Wordsworth "Daffodils"
The opening line "I wander’d lonely as a cloud” is better known. But if you've ever seen a magnificent swathe of daffodils in the countryside, it really is quite special. It takes a poet to describe the experience.

Next:

Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
ANSWER: Christina Rossetti's "Remember"

NEXT:
Some I love who are dead
were watchers of the moon and knew its lore

Some I love who are dead
were watchers of the moon and knew its lore

Answer: Full Moon by Robert Hayden

Next:
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
ANSWER: Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman"

NEXT:
Keeper of the small gate, choreographer
of entrances and exits, midnight
whisper travelling the wires

That was my first Maya Angelou poem. I can see why she is so admired.

Keeper of the small gate, choreographer
of entrances and exits, midnight
whisper travelling the wires

Answer: Prayer by Dana Gioia

Next:
It greases the palm, feathers a nest,
holds heads above water,
makes both ends meet.

It greases the palm, feathers a nest,
holds heads above water,
makes both ends meet.
ANSWER: Dana Gioia's "Money"
Interesting poem. I especially liked the last stanza:


NEXT:
All that I love
I fold over once

I had to use that poem. It just spoke to me. I, too, loved the last stanza.

All that I love
I fold over once

Answer: "Bonsai" by Edith Tiempo

Next:

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
ANSWER: Langston Hughes' "Harlem - a Dream Deferred"

My article about that Hughes poem at Suite101 used to get a lot of hits; one fellow even wrote about my article on his blog.

NEXT:
Spring nights and cool mornings
Draw back their curtains slowly

Spring nights and cool mornings
Draw back their curtains slowly

Answer: "As Tulips Dance and Sway" By Linda Sue Grimes

Beautiful poem Linda Sue.

Next:

cold
breathes on a cloud
remembering

icicles
hinder a flying kite

cold
breathes on a cloud
remembering

icicles
hinder a flying kite
ANSWER: Nancy May's "Frosty Day"

NEXT:
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –

Answer: "I'm Nobody! Who are you?" By Emily Dickinson

Next: cold nights on the farm, a sock-shod stove-warmed flatiron slid under the covers, mornings a damascene- sealed bizarrerie of fernwork

cold nights on the farm, a sock-shod stove-warmed flatiron slid under the covers, mornings a damascene- sealed bizarrerie of fernwork
ANSWER: "On the Disadvantages of Central Heating" by Amy Clampitt


NEXT:
bumblebee stumbles in

Susan Kelly-DeWitt

...the blossoms open
like pink thimbles
and that black dollop
of shine called
bumblebee stumbles in.

Valerie, you need to offer a line or two, so the next poster can answer it.

Thanks, for playing. You answered my last post correctly with poet's name, but you didn't identify the title of the poem.

Again, thanks, it's great to have another player!

The great soul
Flew from the Creator
Bearing manna of hope
For his country
Starving severely from an absence of compassion

Who is the poet and what is the title of this poem?

The great soul
Flew from the Creator
Bearing manna of hope
For his country
Starving severely from an absence of compassion

ANSWER: Maya Angelou's "Reverend Martin Luther King"

NEXT:
Standing there, his big gun smoking,
Rabbit-scared, alone.

Standing there, his big gun smoking,
Rabbit-scared, alone.

Answer: "Southern Cop" by Sterling A. Brown

Next:

Tell em to take my bare walls down
my cement abutments
their parties thereof
and clause of claws

Tell em to take my bare walls down
my cement abutments
their parties thereof
and clause of claws
ANSWER: "Foreclosure" by Lorine Niedecker

NEXT:
Your bark is wrinkled
more deeply than any face
you live so slowly

Your bark is wrinkled
more deeply than any face
you live so slowly

Answer: "Mulberry" by Craig Arnold

Next:

The fact that no birds sing.
A blackness called sorrow.
Lasts seldom more than seven years.

The fact that no birds sing.
A blackness called sorrow.
Lasts seldom more than seven years.
ANSWER: Jan Erik Vold "THE FACT THAT NO BIRDS SING"


NEXT:
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,