Collage

Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
That is the question.
And how shall I presume?
Well,
We shall find out.

No coward soul am I;
But would it have been worth it, after all,
When the present has latched its postern against the past
To find some way incomparably light and deft
To say,
This is the body of Christ.
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright
But O O O how sweet that Shakespearean rag
I have been one acquainted with the night
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance
But I being poor, have only my dreams
Which is most feeble.

I have outwalked the furthest city light
Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox,
How the mighty are fallen in the midst of battle

War is Peace
Which waves in every raven tress
But in the lamplight, downed with soft brown hair!
Freedom is Slavery
But I was young and foolish,
That little tent of blue, which prisoners call the sky
and now am full of tears.
Ignorance is strength

Gathering wood in vacant lots
Signifying nothing.

While reading The Waste Land, it occured to me that you could make a whole poem out of bits of other poems. This i did.