| A | B |
|---|
| "She hath no loyal knight and true...I am half sick if shadows." | "The Lady of Shalott" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
| "Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark." | 'Crossing the Bar" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
| "Glory be to God for dappled things - For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow." | "Pied Beauty" by Gerard Manley Hopkins |
| ""How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use." | "Ulysses" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
| "My purpose holds to sail beyone the sunset, the baths of all the western stars, until I die." | "Ulysses" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
| "She had a heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere." | "My Last Duchess" by Robert Browning |
| "Yew, quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down You'd treat if met where any bar is, Or help to half-a-crown." | "The Man He Killed" by Thomas Hardy |
| "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." | "Sonnet 43" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning |
| "Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than a rose." | "To an Athlete Dying Young" by A.E. Housman |
| "The noise of life begins again, And ghastly through the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day." | "In Memoriam A.H.H. by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
| 'Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea." | "Crossing the Bar" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
| "Oh, to be in England Now that April's there." | "Home-Thought from Abroad" by Robert Browning |
| "For whole centuries of foly, noise and sin! Shut them in, With their triumphs and their glories and the rest! Love is best." | "Love Among the Ruins" by Robert Browning |
| "Smart lad, to slop betimes away From fields where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows, It withers quicker than a rose." | "To An Athlete Dying Young" by A.E. Housman |
