Poetry Books

PURGATORY Cantos 1 - 33 O'er better waves to speed her rapid courseThe light bark of my genius lifts the sail,Well pleas'd to leave so cruel sea behind;And of that second region will I sing,In which the human spirit from sinful blotIs purg'd, and for ascent to Heaven prepares. Here, O ye hallow'd Nine! for in your trainI follow, here the deadened strain revive;Nor let Calliope... more...

PRELUDE.   Poems are heavenly things,  And only souls with wings  May reach them where they grow,  May pluck and bear below,  Feeding the nations thus  With food all glorious.   Verses are not of these;  They bloom on earthly trees,  Poised on a low-hung stem,  And those may gather them  Who cannot fly to where  The heavenly gardens are.   So I by devious ways  Have pulled... more...

THE LOVES OF THE PLANTS.         Descend, ye hovering Sylphs! aerial Quires,        And sweep with little hands your silver lyres;        With fairy footsteps print your grassy rings,        Ye Gnomes! accordant to the tinkling strings;5 While in soft notes I tune to oaten reed        Gay hopes, and amorous sorrows of the mead.—        From giant Oaks,... more...

1. A SONG OF RENUNCIATION. (AFTER A. C. S.) In the days of my season of salad,  When the down was as dew on my cheek, And for French I was bred on the ballad,  For Greek on the writers of Greek,–– Then I sang of the rose that is ruddy,  Of ‘pleasure that winces and stings,’ Of white women and wine that is bloody,  And similar things. Of Delight that is dear as Desi-er,  And Desire that is... more...

A GENTLEMAN OF THE HIGHWAYS By KATHRYN JARBOE Since early morning nothing but sunshine had entered the hospitable doorway of The Jolly Grig, a tavern not a dozen miles from the outer edge of London town. Across the white, sanded floor golden patches of light had moved with measured tread, and merry motes had danced in the golden beams, but nothing else had stirred. On the deep hearth were piled huge... more...

SUPPRESSED POEMS. THE JOURNALISTS AND MINOS. I chanced the other eve,—But how I ne'er will tell,—The paper to receive.That's published down in hell. In general one may guess,I little care to seeThis free-corps of the pressGot up so easily; But suddenly my eyesA side-note chanced to meet,And fancy my surpriseAt reading in the sheet:— "For twenty weary springs"(The post from... more...

Song of the Pen Not for the love of women toil we, we of the craft,Not for the people's praise;Only because our goddess made us her own and laughed,Claiming us all our days, Claiming our best endeavour—body and heart and brainGiven with no reserve—Niggard is she towards us, granting us little gain;Still, we are proud to serve. Not unto us is given choice of the tasks we try,Gathering grain or... more...

HISTORICAL NOTE. The design followed out in the succeeding poem has been to touch upon the leading historical incidents of Saul's career that lead up to and explain his tragic death on Mount Gilboa. With him, nearly 3,000 years ago, commenced the Monarchical government of the Israelites, who had previously been governed by a Theocracy. The Prophet Samuel, who anointed Saul, was the last of the... more...

INDEX OF THE FIRST LINES Ah, these jasminesAh, who was it coloured that little frockBless this little heartChild, how happy you are sitting in the dustCome and hire meDay by day I float my paper boatsI am small because I am a little childIf baby only wanted to, he could flyIf I were only a little puppyIf people came to know where my king's palace isI long to go over thereImagine, motherI only... more...

DEAR TOM—Allow me to request you to introduce Mr. Peter Bell to the respectable family of the Fudges. Although he may fall short of those very considerable personages in the more active properties which characterize the Rat and the Apostate, I suspect that even you, their historian, will confess that he surpasses them in the more peculiarly legitimate qualification of intolerable dulness. You know... more...