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FURTHER READING
Poems About Childhood
"Out, Out—"
by Robert Frost
A Boy Juggling a Soccer Ball
by Christopher Merrill
A child said, What is the grass?
by Walt Whitman
anyone lived in a pretty how town
by E. E. Cummings
Birches
by Robert Frost
Block City
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Blur
by Andrew Hudgins
Fern Hill
by Dylan Thomas
In the Waiting Room
by Elizabeth Bishop
Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll
Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
by William Wordsworth
The Children's Hour
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Lamb
by William Blake
The Swing
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Back to School Poems
All the World's a Stage
by William Shakespeare
Apples
by Grace Schulman
Art Class
by James Galvin
Being Jewish in a Small Town
by Lyn Lifshin
Evening Walk as the School Year Starts
by Sydney Lea
First Gestures
by Julia Spicher Kasdorf
From "One A.M."
by David Young
In Michael Robins’s class minus one
by Bob Hicok
Mary's Lamb
by Sarah Josepha Hale
Messieur Degas Teaches Art and Science at Durfy Intermediate School, Detroit 1942
by Philip Levine
Niggerlips
by Martín Espada
Panty Raid
by Terri Ford
Sentimental Education
by Mary Ruefle
Sick
by Shel Silverstein
The Hand
by Mary Ruefle
The Junior High School Band Concert
by David Wagoner
The Shout
by Simon Armitage
The Testing-Tree
by Stanley Kunitz
Theme for English B
by Langston Hughes
We Real Cool
by Gwendolyn Brooks
Why Latin Should Still Be Taught in High School
by Christopher Bursk
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Pledge  
by Elizabeth Powell

Republic, your cool hands
On my schoolgirl shoulders.
Not sure what allegiances meant
Until the vows were held by heart,
By memory, by rote, by benign betrothal.
Republic, you were mine, I knew
Because of Mother's religious pamphlets:
Lindsay for Mayor.
McGovern for President.
How to Register Voters.
I didn't ever want to go to school
On Saturdays. The baby-sitter said
If Nixon won, I'd have to go. Me,
Your most cherished child bride.
I wanted a white communion dress
Like the ones the Catholic girls wore.
Republic, you know I wanted to play
Cards with Mother. Mother smoking
Marlboros, watching Watergate all week.
Citizen Mother all consumed at that confessional.
I liked the name Betsy Ross.
I liked the idea of sewing flags.
I liked the tattered textbook about the colonies.
So tender, so tender. My Republic,
I am pledged by my childish troth
So strangely to you.



From The Republic of Self by Elizabeth Powell, published by New Issues Poetry & Prose. Copyright © 2001 by Elizabeth Powell. Used with permission. All rights reserved.
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