Languages Magazine

Helpful Poems Needed When Learners Learn English at Language School

By Tlb
Edwin Arlington Robinson

Image via Wikipedia

When learners choose to learn English at language school, definitely they will tackle lots and lots of things related to English language.


Most courses, especially when you take the basic course to which you will really start from the beginning, usually touch topics that cover the importance of the language. Some may not view it as a practical sense since most learners tend to learn English so that they can speak fluently, still, there are those learners who are so willing to take the gradual but very enjoyable journey of learning English. Are you one of these kinds of learner too?


So one of the things you will be touching when you enroll yourselves to a language school are the literary works of some of the English poets that we know. Poems, in fair view of its uniqueness and contribution to English language learning, are also suitable to read as well.


Want some samples? The readable ones are enlisted below.


Not Waving But Drowning

By Stevie Smith


Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.


Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.


Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.


Sea Fever

By: John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking.


I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.


I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.


Richard Cory

By: Edwin Arlington Robinson


Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.


And he was rich – yes, richer than a king -

And admirably schooled in every grace;

In fine we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.


So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

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