Desiderata: GO PLACIDLY Amid The Noise and The Haste, and

Desiderata
GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and

remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as
possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all
persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,

even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to

the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may
become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and
lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep

interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real
possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is

full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there
is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life
is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be

cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and
disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully

surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden

misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark
imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and
the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe

is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your
labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep
peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken
dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be
happy.
By Max Ehrmann © 1927
The Road Not Taken

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BY ROB ER T FRO ST
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.
Annabel Lee
BY ED GA R AL LA N P OE
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

BY CHR IS TO PH ER M AR LO WE
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the Rocks,

Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of Roses

And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool

Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and Ivy buds,

With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing

For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd

BY SI R W AL TE R RA LE GH
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold,

When Rivers rage and Rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields,
To wayward winter reckoning yields,
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,

Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten:
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,

The Coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,

Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROB ER T FRO ST
Whose woods these are I think I know.
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.
Mending Wall
BY ROB ER T FRO ST
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

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Desiderata

GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe

By Max Ehrmann © 1927

The Road Not Taken

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And both that morning equally lay

I was a child and she was a child,

And this was the reason that, long ago,

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love

And we will sit upon the Rocks,

And I will make thee beds of Roses

A gown made of the finest wool

A belt of straw and Ivy buds,

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing

The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd

Time drives the flocks from field to fold,

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of Roses,

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds,

But could youth last, and love still breed,

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

My little horse must think it queer

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

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