You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

This poem is about an individual / society protesting against the slavery and oppression of the oppressors in light of their history being twisted like lies, people being shot and killed, nights of terror and fear, and shameful painful hateful past. Despite heavy darkness is glooming all around, he/she walk proudly on the street with self-confidence and is hopeful about the future. Similarly, under our current local political darkness, the poem reminds us that if we keep and protect our gift of ancestral culture and pass it to our next generation, I believe that we can still rise and see light in darkness. Amen.

Now’s the time when children’s noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
Where the juicy apples grow,
And tomatoes in a row.

And to-day the hardened sinner
Never could be late for dinner,
But will jump up to the table
Just as soon as he is able,
Ask for three times hot roast mutton–
Oh! the shocking little glutton.

Come then, find your ball and racket,
Pop into your winter jacket,
With the lovely bear-skin lining.
While the sun is brightly shining,
Let us run and play together
And just love the autumn weather.

This poem is cheerful and bestows a sense of energy on the readers. It is a season of fun and thanksgiving. The effect of autumn on the children’s faces makes them look lovely and adorable when the poet uses the images of roses, orchard, apples and tomatoes to describe them. The little sinner jumps up to the table on the day of thanksgiving and have a happy feast despite his little gluttony. As the cold winter will be coming, the poet invites both children and adults to take the chance to run and play together in this good autumn weather and have some fun. It is a season of joy and happiness.

What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain’s brink.
What is red? a poppy’s red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro’.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? Why, an orange,
Just an orange!

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

This poem celebrates the beauty of London in the early morning. London, an industrial city as opposed to nature, is generally thought to be busy, noisy, polluted, smoky and crowded; but now, at this morning moment, London is ‘silent’, ‘calm’ and ‘fair’ with clean air, the buildings and structures are at one with nature, ‘open unto the fields, and to the sky’.

The river, which should be the Thames, can flow freely ‘at his own sweet will’ without the intrusion of factories and ships. ‘Mighty heart’ which refers to government, trade and industry is ‘lying still’ and at peace with the world of nature before it takes to runs its activities. The poet can see London through the natural perspective which is very rarely adopted by poets at his time.