Poetry Books

Punky Dunk on a day in the middle of MayLooked around like a wise little cat,And he said with surprise: "Can I trust my own eyes?Well, what do you know about that?" For a wagon of blue, with a man in blue, too,At the sidewalk was just backing up.And the man brought a crate that was heavy of weightAnd inside was a gay spotted pup. Now Punky felt hurt as he gazed very pertAt the gay spotted pup... more...

I think I should scarcely trouble the reader with a special appeal in behalf of this book, if it had not specially appealed to me for reasons apart from the author's race, origin, and condition. The world is too old now, and I find myself too much of its mood, to care for the work of a poet because he is black, because his father and mother were slaves, because he was, before and after he began to... more...

Some one like you makes the heart seem the lighter, Some one like you makes the day's work worth while, Some one like you makes the sun shine the brighter, Some one like you makes a sigh half a smile. Life's an odd pattern of briers and roses, Clouds sometimes darken, nor sun shining through, Then the cloud lifts and the sun light discloses Near to me, dear to me—Some one like you. Some one... more...

TO MY PEN I Thou feeble implement of mind,Wherewith she strove to scrawl hername;But, like a mitcher, left behindNo signature, no stroke, no claim,No hint that she hath pined— Shall ever come a stronger time,When thou shalt be a tool of skill,And steadfast purpose, to fulfilA higher task than rhyme? II Thou puny instrument of soul,Wherewith she labours to impartHer efforts at some arduous goal;But... more...

THE THREE BEARS. THERE were once three bears, who lived in a wood,Their porridge was thick, and their chairs and beds good.The biggest bear, Bruin, was surly and rough;His wife, Mrs. Bruin, was called Mammy Muff.Their son, Tiny-cub, was like Dame Goose’s lad;He was not very good, nor yet very bad.Now Bruin, the biggest—the surly old bear—Had a great granite bowl, and a cast-iron chair.Mammy Muffs... more...

Hannibal. Could a Numidian horseman ride no faster? Marcellus! oh! Marcellus! He moves not—he is dead. Did he not stir his fingers? Stand wide, soldiers—wide, forty paces; give him air; bring water; halt! Gather those broad leaves, and all the rest, growing under the brushwood; unbrace his armour. Loose the helmet first—his breast rises. I fancied his eyes were fixed on me—they have rolled back... more...

'Twas on a frosty Christmas Eve When Peggy Deutchland woke From her wooden sleep On the counter steep And to her neighbour spoke, "Get up! get up, dear Sarah Jane! Now strikes the midnight hour, When dolls and toys Taste human joys, And revel in their power.     I long to try my limbs a bit, And you must walk with me; Our joints are good Though made of wood, And I pine for liberty. For... more...

THE KING OF THE CASTLE. A S the lion is called the king of beasts, so the eagle is called the king of birds; but except that it is bigger, stronger, and swifter than other birds, there does not seem much reason for the name. It is a mistake to attribute noble or mean qualities to animals or birds, or to think they can do good or bad actions, when they can only do what God has created them to do, and as... more...

THEFirst BookOF THEMETAMORPHOSESOFOVID.     From bodies various form'd, mutative shapesMy Muse would sing:—Celestial powers give aid!From you those changes sprung,—inspire my pen;Connect each period of my venturous songUnsever'd, from old Chaös' rude misrule,Till now the world beneath Augustus smiles.     While yet nor earth nor sea their place possest,Nor that cerulean... more...

A NOTE TO THE MODERN READER A Little Book for a Little Cook was originally published by Pillsbury in 1905. This new reproduction has all of the recipes from the original softcover edition, but is being reissued with the modern reader in mind. The collector will note some small departures from the original book, but the little cook will no doubt find what is here to be fun to cook, delicious, and warmly... more...