Poetry Books

CANTO I. I. LETTER FROM THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS TO LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE. "I hear from Bigorre you are there. I am toldYou are going to marry Miss Darcy. Of old,So long since you may have forgotten it now(When we parted as friends, soon mere strangers to grow),Your last words recorded a pledge—what you will—A promise—the time is now come to fulfil.The letters I ask you, my lord, to return,I... more...

LITTLE ALLIE. I have been to see my little cousin Alice. She is just three years old, and I love her dearly. She has many things to play with. She has a ball, a rattle, and a horse; and she had a nice wax doll given her last Christmas, but as she got the paint off its face by kissing, it is laid by till she is bigger. We played she was my baby, and I dressed her up and took her to walk; after that we... more...

Difficulties—Consent. 'Night will come on; when seated snug,'And you've perhaps begun some tale,'Can you then leave your dear stone mug;'Leave all the folks, and all the Ale?' 'Ay, Kate, I wool;—because I know,'Though time has been we both could run,'Such days are gone and over now;—'I only mean to see the fun.' She straight slipp'd off... more...

Judging from a comparison of extant remains, and other means of information now available, it may be doubted whether any country has equalled Scotland in the number of its lyrics. By the term lyrics, I mean specifically poetical compositions, meant and suitable to be sung, with the musical measures to which they have been wedded. I include under the term, both the compositions themselves, and their... more...

Proem Where are they— the Afterwhiles—Luring us the lengthening milesOf our lives? Where is the dawnWith the dew across the lawnStroked with eager feet the farWay the hills and valleys are?Were the sun that smites the frownOf the eastward-gazer down?Where the rifted wreaths of mistO'er us, tinged with amethyst,Round the mountain's steep defiles?Where are the afterwhiles? Afterwhile— and... more...

e was a rat, and she was a rat,And down in one hole they did dwell,And both were as black as a witch’s cat,And they loved one another well.He had a tail, and she had a tail,Both long and curling and fine,And each said “Yours is the finest tailIn the world,—excepting mine!” e smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,And they both pronounced it good,And both remarked it would greatly addTo the... more...

THE ORCHARD’S GRANDMOTHER. I MUST ask you to go back more than two hundred years, and watch two people in a quiet old English garden. One is an old lady reading. In her young days she was a famous beauty. That was very long ago, to be sure; but I think she is a beauty still—do not you? She has such a lovely face, and her eyes are so sweet and bright! and better than that, they are the kind which... more...

THE RUINES OF TIME. DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND BEAUTIFULL LADIE, THE LA: MARIE, COUNTESSE OF PEMEBROOKE. Most honourable and bountifull Ladie, there bee long sithens deepe sowed in my brest the seede of most entire love and humble affection unto that most brave knight, your noble brother deceased; which, taking roote, began in his life time somewhat to bud forth, and to shew themselves to him, as... more...

Drake's Drum Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand miles away,  (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,  An' dreamin' arl the time O' Plymouth Hoe.Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships,  Wi' sailor lads a-dancing' heel-an'-toe,An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the... more...

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHER VERSES 1889-1891TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled —Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled —Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world. They are purged of pride because they died, they know the worth of their bays,They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of... more...