The Presidential Inauguration

For extra credit in English class, copy out the words to this poem in red and blue ink and turn it in by 12:30 p.m. on Wednesday, January 28, 2009.

Elizabeth Alexander's Inaugural Poem

"Praise Song for the Day"

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by "first do no harm," or "take no more than you need."

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp — praise song for walking forward in that light.

Romeo and Juliet

What is true love? What is infatuation? Is "love at first sight" possible? We'll be exploring these questions and more as we read through William Shakespeare's beloved play, Romeo and Juliet in English I. Here are some famous quotes from that play:

"Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow."

"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name."

"My only love sprung from my only hate; too early unknown and known too late."

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun."

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet."

"When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun."

"O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

"Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn."

Extra Credit will be given to any English I student who writes out all of these quotes in red ink and finds each Act, Scene and Line number from the play. (For example: Act I, Scene 1, Lines 1-2). This must be turned in by Monday, January 19 at 12:30 p.m. to receive extra credit.

e.e.cummings extra credit

To receive extra credit in English class, write out this poem by e.e. cummings and the brief bio in purple ink and turn it in by 12:30 p.m. on Monday, January 19.


my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.

According to Wikipedia, "Edward Estlin Cummings (October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962), popularly known as e. e. Cummings, was an American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright. His body of work encompasses approximately 900 poems, an autobiographical novel, four plays and several essays, as well as numerous drawings and paintings. He is remembered as a preeminent voice of 20th century poetry, as well as one of the most popular."

The Modern Era

In January the American Literature class will begin exploring the Modern Age. A painting by Mark Rothko and a poem by e.e. cummings demonstrate the kind of material that we will be covering.


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                  i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)