We have always had poetry and recitation in my family. My dad still has reams and reams of the classics which he can rattle off with no problem. Most of my favs have already been mentioned.

I was reading poetry with a friend, yesterday, from a book of my daughter's which she found at a library sale. In it was this gem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox:

YOU NEVER CAN TELL

You never can tell when you send a word
Like an arrow shot from a bow
By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,
Just where it may chance to go.
It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend,
Tipped with its poison or balm,
To a stranger's heart in life's great mart
It may carry its pain or its calm.

You can never tell when you do an act
Just what the result will be,
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
Though the harvest you may not see.
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped
In God's productive soil;
You may not know, but the tree shall grow
With shelter for those who toil.

You never can tell what your thoughts will do
In bringing you hate or love,
For thoughts are things, and their airy wings
Are swifter than carrier doves.
They follow the law of the universe--
Each thing must create its kind,
And they speed o'er the track to bring you back
Whatever went out from your mind.