Hello readers! Today’s topic is the importance of English poems for Class 12 students. As students prepare to embark on the next chapter of their lives, studying English poems can be a great way to develop their critical thinking and analytical skills. Reading and analyzing poems can also help students understand different literary techniques and styles, and improve their overall mastery of the English language.
From sonnets to free verse, English poetry offers a diverse range of forms and styles that can both challenge and inspire students. Whether you’re a student or a teacher, I hope this blog post will provide you with valuable insights into the world of English poetry for Class 12, and inspire you to continue exploring this rich and rewarding genre. So, without further ado, let’s begin!
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English Poem For Class 12
Here, I add English Poems For Class 12 students. If you are a class 12 student or any class 12 student’s parents then this will help you a lot to learn English poems for grade 12. I compile come best poems in the English language which drive your child into any other state of mind and grow him/her thinking. Poems are a very important part of studies as well as life.
English Poem For Class 12 With Poet Name – Poem 1
A Roadside Stand
The little old house was out with a little new shed
In front at the edge of the road where the traffic sped,
A roadside stand that too pathetically pled,
It would not be fair to say for a dole of bread,
But for some of the money, the cash, whose flow supports
The flower of cities from sinking and withering faint.
The polished traffic passed with a mind ahead,
Or if ever aside a moment, then out of sorts
At having the landscape marred with the artless paint
Of signs that with N turned wrong and S turned wrong
Offered for sale wild berries in wooden quarts,
Or crook-necked golden squash with silver warts,
Or beauty rest in a beautiful mountain scene,
You have the money, but if you want to be mean,
Why keep your money (this crossly) and go along.
The hurt to the scenery wouldn’t be my complaint
So much as the trusting sorrow of what is unsaid:
Here far from the city, we make our roadside stand
And ask for some city money to feel in the hand
To try if it will not make our expanding,
And give us the life of the moving pictures’ promise
That the party in power is said to be keeping from us.
It is in the news that all these pitiful kin
Are to be bought out and mercifully gathered in
To live in villages, next to the theatre and the store,
Where they won’t have to think for themselves anymore,
While greedy good-doers, beneficent beasts of prey,
Swarm over their lives enforcing benefits
That are calculated to soothe them out of their wits,
And by teaching them how to sleep they sleep all day,
Destroy their sleeping at night the ancient way.
Sometimes I feel myself I can hardly bear
The thought of so much childish longing in vain,
The sadness that lurks near the open window there,
That waits all day in almost open prayer
For the squeal of brakes, the sound of a stopping car,
Of all the thousand selfish cars that pass,
Just one to inquire what a farmer’s prices are.
And one did stop, but only to plow up grass
In using the yard to back and turn around;
And another to ask the way to where it was bound;
And another to ask could they sell it a gallon of gas
They couldn’t (this crossly); they had none, didn’t it see?
No, in country money, the country scale of gain,
The requisite lift of spirit has never been found,
Or so the voice of the country seems to complain,
I can’t help owning the great relief it would be
To put these people at one stroke out of their pain.
And then next day as I come back into the sane,
I wonder how I should like you to come to me
And offer to put me gently out of my pain
English Poem For Class 12 Competition – Poem 2
An Elementary School Classroom in a Slum
Far far from gusty waves these children’s faces.
Like rootless weeds, the hair was torn around their pallor:
The tall girl with her weighed-down head. The paper seeming
Boy, with rat’s eyes. The stunted, unlucky heir
Of twisted bones, reciting a father’s gnarled disease,
His lesson, from his desk. At back of the dim class
One unnoted, sweet and young. His eyes live in a dream,
Of squirrel’s game, in tree room, other than this.
On sour cream walls, donations. Shakespeare’s head,
Cloudless at dawn, civilized dome riding all cities.
Belled, flowery, Tyrolese valley. Open-handed map
Awarding the world its world. And yet, for these
Children, these windows, not this map, their world,
Where all their future are painted with a fog,
A narrow street sealed in with a lead sky
Far far from rivers, capes, and stars of words.
Surely, Shakespeare is wicked, the map a bad example,
With ships and sun and love tempting them to steal—
For lives that slyly turn in their cramped holes
From fog to endless night? On their slag heap, these children
Wear skins peeped through by bones and spectacles of steel
With mended glass, like bottle bits on stones.
All of their time and space are foggy slums.
So blot their maps with slums as big as doom
Unless, the governor, inspector, visitor,
This map becomes their window and these windows
That shut upon their lives like catacombs,
Break O break open till they break the town
And show the children green fields, and make their world
Run azure on gold sands, and let their tongues
Run naked into books the white and green leaves open
History theirs whose language is the sun.
English Poem For Class 12 With Moral – Poem 3
Keeping Quiet
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the Earth
let’s not speak in any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the Earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
English Poem For Class 12 Students – Poem 4
A Thing of Beauty
A thing of beauty is a joy forever
Its loveliness increases, it will never
Pass into nothingness, but will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits.
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms;
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink
Such the sun, the moon,
Short English Poem For Class 12
Aunt Jennifer’s Tiger
Aunt Jennifer’s tigers prance across a screen,
Bright topaz denizens of a world of green.
They do not fear the men beneath the tree;
They pace in sleek chivalric certainty.
Aunt Jennifer’s fingers fluttering through her wool
Find even the ivory needle hard to pull.
The massive weight of Uncle’s wedding band
Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer’s hand.
When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie
Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by.
The tigers in the panel that she made
Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.
My Mother at Sixty
Driving from my parent’s home
To Cochin last Friday morning,
I saw my mother beside m
doze, open-mouthed, her face ashen like that
of a corpse and realized with pain
that she was as old as she looked but soon
put that thought away, and looked out at Young
Trees sprinting, the merry children spilling out of their homes,
but after the airport’s
security check, standing a few yards
away, I looked again at her, wan, pale
as a late winter’s moon and felt that old
familiar ache, my childhood fear, but all I said was, see you soon,
Amma, all I did was smile and smile and smile……
I think you all like these Hindi Poems for Class 12 Students. Comment below if you want more like this. I add more poems and also provide you with classroom-type poems in one place which is the studyvillage.net website.
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