Poetry Books

THE VOICE THAT SINGS The voice that sings across the night   Of long forgotten days and things,Is there an ear to hear aright   The voice that sings? It is as when a curfew rings   Melodious in the dying light,A sound that flies on pulsing wings. And faded eyes that once were bright   Brim over, as to life it bringsThe echo of a dead delight,   The voice that sings. In vain you fervently... more...

GEORGIC I What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what starMaecenas, it is meet to turn the sodOr marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proofOf patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-Such are my themes.O universal lightsMost glorious! ye that lead the gliding yearAlong the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,If by your bounty holpen earth once changedChaonian acorn for... more...

ARGUMENT Hrothgar, king of the Danes, lives happily and peacefully, and bethinks him to build a glorious hall called Hart. But a little after, one Grendel, of the kindred of the evil wights that are come of Cain, hears the merry noise of Hart and cannot abide it; so he enters thereinto by night, and slays and carries off and devours thirty of Hrothgar's thanes. Thereby he makes Hart waste for... more...

OUR LITTLE BROWN HOUSE.  There's a little brown house just under the hill;It's not by the river, nor yet by a rill;It's not on the green-sward where the gay and proud meet,But it stands on the corner of Bandbarrack's street.This time-honored veteran, in armor complete,Has stood many winters the storm and the sleet—The early spring rains and the long summer heat,The wear and the... more...

HERE BEGIN POEMS BY THE WAY.WRITTEN BY WILLIAM MORRIS.AND FIRST IS THE POEM CALLEDFROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA. Shall we wake one morn of spring,Glad at heart of everything,Yet pensive with the thought of eve?Then the white house shall we leave,Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,Through the garth, and go our ways,Wandering down among the meadsTill our very joyance needsRest at last; till we shall comeTo... more...

Main Street (For S. M. L.) I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to beWhen it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go. Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing,And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the... more...

NOCTURNE WRITTEN IN AN INDIAN GARDEN'Where ignorance is bliss,'Tis folly to be wise.'The time-gun rolls his nerve-destroying bray;The toiling moon rides slowly o'er the trees;The weary diners cast their cares away,And seek the lawn for coolness and for ease.Now spreads the gathering stillness like a pall,And melancholy silence rules the scene,Save where the bugler sounds his homing... more...

OKLAHOMA. Oklahoma! Oklahoma! Land, O, land of the Fair God, Land where ancient, savage races Through barbarian ages trod! Through thy story fancy traces Facts above what fictions say, Where the world with haste advances,— Born are nations in a day! Where the wigwam stood so lonely, Lordly cities rise in might; Where spread desert wildness only, Fertile farms and homes delight. Thou hast summoned to... more...

DIVIDED. I. An empty sky, a world of heather,  Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;We two among them wading together,  Shaking out honey, treading perfume. Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,  Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,  Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. Flusheth the rise with her purple favor,  Gloweth the cleft with her golden... more...

BOOK I. THE VISION OF THE KING Before the gods that made the godsHad seen their sunrise pass,The White Horse of the White Horse ValeWas cut out of the grass. Before the gods that made the godsHad drunk at dawn their fill,The White Horse of the White Horse ValeWas hoary on the hill. Age beyond age on British land,Aeons on aeons gone,Was peace and war in western hills,And the White Horse looked on. For... more...