First thing is the outline of the essay
next are the peoms
first poem is
old ironsides

oliver wendell holmes
launched in 1794, the uss constitution, nicknamed old ironsides, was due to be scrapped after an 1830 inspection. public outcry—much of it inspired by holmes’s poem—led to the ship’s reconstruction, and it remains afloat today.

ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
long has it waved on high,
and many an eye has danced to see
that banner in the sky;
beneath it rung the battle shout,
and burst the cannon’s roar; —
the meteor of the ocean air
shall sweep the clouds no more.
her deck, once red with heroes’ blood,
where knelt the vanquished foe,
when winds were hurrying o’er the flood,
and waves were white below,
no more shall feel the victor’s tread,
or know the conquered knee; —
the harpies of the shore shall pluck
the eagle of the sea!
oh, better that her shattered hulk
should sink beneath the wave;
her thunders shook the mighty deep,
and there should be her grave;
nail to the mast her holy flag.
set every threadbare sail,
and give her to the god of storms,
the lightning and the gale!
the second peom is the village blacksmith

henry wadsworth longfellow
under a spreading chestnut-tree
the village smithy stands;
the smith, a mighty man is he,
with large and sinewy hands;
and the muscles of his brawny arms
are strong as iron bands.
his hair is crisp, and black, and long,
his face is like the tan;
his brow is wet with honest sweat,
he earns whate’er he can,
and looks the whole world in the face,
for he owes not any man.
week in, week out, from morn till night,
you can hear his bellows blow;
you can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
with measured beat and slow,
like a sexton ringing the village bell,
when the evening sun is low.
and children coming home from school
look in at the open door;
they love to see the flaming forge,
and hear the bellows roar,
and catch the burning sparks that fly
like chaff from a threshing-floor.
he goes on sunday to the church,
and sits among his boys;
he hears the parson pray and preach,
he hears his daughter’s voice,
singing in the village choir,
and it makes his heart rejoice.
it sounds to him like her mother’s voice,
singing in paradise!
he needs must think of her once more,
how in the grave she lies;
and with his hard, rough hand he wipes
a tear out of his eyes.
toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
onward through life he goes;
each morning sees some task begin,
each evening sees it close;
something attempted, something done,
has earned a night’s repose.
, to thee, my worthy friend,
for the lesson thou hast taught!
thus at the flaming forge of life
our fortunes must be wrought;
thus on its sounding anvil shaped
each burning deed and thought.
this is all of the stuff that you need to do the essay