Poetry Books

The Children of the Night For those that never know the light,The darkness is a sullen thing;And they, the Children of the Night,Seem lost in Fortune's winnowing. But some are strong and some are weak, —And there's the story. House and homeAre shut from countless hearts that seekWorld-refuge that will never come. And if there be no other life,And if there be no other chanceTo weigh their... 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...

PREFACE. It is unfortunately true that the terms education and culture are not synonymous. Too often we find that the children in our public schools, while possessed of the one, are signally lacking in the other. This is a state of things that cannot be remedied by teaching mere facts. The Greeks, many years ago, found the true method of imparting the latter grace and we shall probably not be able to... more...

A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the houseNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;The children were nestled all snug in their beds,While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,Had just settled our brains for a... more...

REVERENCE TO GANESHA!"The sky is clouded; and the wood resemblesThe sky, thick-arched with black Tamâla boughs;O Radha, Radha! take this Soul, that tremblesIn life's deep midnight, to Thy golden house."So Nanda spoke,—and, led by Radha's spirit,The feet of Krishna found the road aright;Wherefore, in bliss which all high hearts inherit,Together taste they Love's divine delight.... more...

Dear Mr. Smithers, By every right I ought to choose you to edit and bring out Sir Richard Burton's translation of Catullus, because you collaborated with him on this work by a correspondence of many months before he died. If I have hesitated so long as to its production, it was because his notes, which are mostly like pencilled cobwebs, strewn all over his Latin edition, were headed, "NEVER... more...

THE LORD OF MISRULE “On May days the wild heads of the parish would choose a Lord of Misrule, whom they would follow even into the church, though the minister were at prayer or preaching, dancing and swinging their may-boughs about like devils incarnate.”—Old Puritan Writer. A LL on a fresh May morning, I took my love to church, To see if Parson Primrose were safely on his perch. He scarce had... 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...

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...

TAM I' THE KIRK O Jean, my Jean, when the bell ca's the congregationOwre valley an' hill wi' the ding frae its iron mou',When a'body's thochts is set on his ain salvation,  Mine's set on you. There's a reid rose lies on the Buik o' the Word 'afore yeThat was growin' braw on its bush at the keek o' day,But the lad that pu'd yon... more...