By Robert Frost – 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,…
Poetry
Penny Dreadful Showtime Series Ends With the Words of Wordsworth
Spoiler Alert By Glynn Wilson – What would we do without television entertainment and literature in the age of COVID? While I’m not a huge fan of Hollywood monster movies, it was hard to resist John Logan’s Penny Dreadful, a Showtime series now on Netflix depicting the dark side of Victorian England in the 19th…
Prometheus the Poem By Lord Byron
By Lord Byron (a.k.a. George Gordon) Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise; What was thy pity’s recompense? A silent suffering, and intense; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain, The agony they…
Robert Frost: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
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.…
