Poetry Books

BED IN SUMMERIN winter I get up at nightAnd dress by yellow candle-light.In summer, quite the other way,I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and seeThe birds still hopping on the tree,Or hear the grown-up people's feetStill going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you,When all the sky is clear and blue,And I should like so much to play,To have to go to bed by day? IIIT... more...

The shades of night were falling fast,As through an Eastern village passedA youth who bore, through dust and heat,A stencil-plate, that read complete—“SAPOLIO.” CLEAN PAINT, OIL CLOTHS, FLOORS,WOOD WORK, TABLES & SHELVES with Sapolio. His brow was sad, but underneath,White with “Odonto” shone his teeth,And through them hissed the words, “Well, blowMe tight if here is ’ary... more...

INTRODUCTORY The New Influences and Tendencies Mere statistics are untrustworthy; dates are even less dependable. But, to avoid hairsplitting, what we call "modern" English literature may be said to date from about 1885. A few writers who are decidedly "of the period" are, as a matter of strict chronology, somewhat earlier. But the chief tendencies may be divided into seven periods.... more...

INTRODUCTION On a topographical map of Literature Nonsense would be represented by a small and sparsely settled country, neglected by the average tourist, but affording keen delight to the few enlightened travellers who sojourn within its borders. It is a field which has been neglected by anthologists and essayists; one of its few serious recognitions being in a certain "Treatise of Figurative... more...

They who maintained their rights,Through storm and stress,And walked in all the waysThat God made known,Led by no wandering lights,And by no guess,Through dark and desolate daysOf trial and moan:Here let their monumentRise, like a wordIn rock commemorativeOf our Land's youth;Of ways the Puritan went,With soul love-spurredTo suffer, die, and liveFor faith and truth.Here they the corner-stoneOf... more...

Before the Altar Before the Altar, bowed, he standsWith empty hands;Upon it perfumed offerings burnWreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn.Not one of all these has he given,No flame of his has leapt to HeavenFiresouled, vermilion-hearted,Forked, and darted,Consuming what a few spare penceHave cheaply bought, to fling from henceIn idly-asked petition. His sole conditionLove and poverty.And while the... more...

POETRY FOR POETRY'S SAKE One who, after twenty years, is restored to the University where he was taught and first tried to teach, and who has received at the hands of his Alma Mater an honour of which he never dreamed, is tempted to speak both of himself and of her. But I remember that you have come to listen to my thoughts about a great subject, and not to my feelings about myself; and, of... more...

AN INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES DICKENS In the spring of the year 1853, I observed, as conductor of the weekly journal Household Words, a short poem among the proffered contributions, very different, as I thought, from the shoal of verses perpetually setting through the office of such a periodical, and possessing much more merit.  Its authoress was quite unknown to me.  She was one Miss Mary Berwick, whom... more...

Stars (At Locheven)Have you walked in the woodsWhen twilight wraps a veil of mistAround the gray-green treesIn early spring?It is then the snow-white trilliumGleam like stars from the carpetOf last year’s leaves:And tall white violets glowLike clouds of nebulæ along the path.And flecked, like points of lightIn the quiet pools of waterAmong the gray-green boles,Are the stars of heaven. Curling and... more...

BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, 1That was the king Priamus sone of Troye,In lovinge, how his aventures fellenFro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye,My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. 5Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyteThise woful vers, that wepen as I wryte! To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment,Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne;Help me, that am the... more...