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First Evening (Première Soirée)
by Arthur Rimbaud

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half nude, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

Untamed temerity

Broke the morning air with an uneven stride,
stole three kisses from a bachelor’s loving bride.
Surely I was happy I had nothing of worth to hide,
been working so hard to turn down my secular pride.

Wave after wave kept rolling on their wetted sand,
kept my powder dry, my canon close to my left hand.
the nihilistic brotherhood of toff’s couldn’t understand,
you pluck no other’s strings if you’re a one man bland.

haps I should have learned to swim better
maybe it wasn't so smart to paddle out
in a fifteen foot cyclone surf
on a foam board
Mum and Dad
will be so mad
I wonder if
I'll get in trouble?
They say your life
flashes before
your eyes
when you die
this shouldn't
take long,
I'm only
twelve.

By Robert Frost

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