"Reapers" by Jean Toomer

Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones
Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones
In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,
And start their silent swinging, one by one.
Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,
And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds,
His belly close to ground. I see the blde,
Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade.

"Success is Counted Sweetest" by Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated - dying -
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns sung by M. Stewart

"A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns

O my Luve's like a red, red rose,
   That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie
    That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
    So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
    Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
    And the rocksmelt wi' the sun:
And I will luve thee still, my Dear
     While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
     And fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
      Tho' it were ten thousand mile!