Poetry Books

I Out of the little chapel I burst  Into the fresh night-air again.Five minutes full, I waited first  In the doorway, to escape the rainThat drove in gusts down the common's centre  At the edge of which the chapel stands,Before I plucked up heart to enter.  Heaven knows how many sorts of handsReached past me, groping for the latchOf the inner door that hung on catchMore obstinate the more... more...

INTRODUCTION TO THE OCCASIONAL PIECES (POEMS 1809-1813; POEMS 1814-1816). The Poems afterwards entitled "Occasional Pieces," which were included in the several editions of the Collected Works issued by Murray, 1819-1831, numbered fifty-seven in all. They may be described as the aggregate of the shorter poems written between the years 1809-1818, which the author thought worthy of a permanent... more...

HARRY'S HORN-BOOK. BOY CAT. DOG. JUG. COW. PIG. BED. FOX. COCK. DUCK. MILL. GOAT. STAG. ROSE. HARE. BEAR. LAMP. HOUSE. CLOCK. PEARS. GOOSE. HORSE. SHEEP. CHAIR. KNIFE. FORK. SPOON. RAKE, HOE, AND SPADE. GRAPES. BRIDGE. CHURCH. LION. SOFA. APPLE. BASIN. TABLE. PANSY. ROBIN. CAMEL. DONKEY. PIGEON. MONKEY. TURKEY. RABBIT. WAGGON. TEAPOT. SPARROW. FUSCHIA. PHEASANT. FILBERTS. WOODCOCK. COFFEE POT.... more...

CANTO I. I.It was the time of year when cockneys flyFrom town to country, and from there to town.I am not sure, but think it was July;I would not swear it was, nor bet a crown,When, as I told you, cockneys hurry downIn two hours' railway journey far away,And rush to places of immense renown,Bright with the thoughts of coming holiday,Full well determined to enjoy it while they may. II.They were the... more...

THE WAYSIDE INN.One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,Across the meadows bare and brown,The windows of the wayside innGleamed red with fire-light through the leavesOf woodbine, hanging from the eavesTheir crimson curtains rent and thin.As ancient is this hostelryAs any in the land may be,Built in the old Colonial day,When men lived in a grander way,With ampler hospitality;A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,Now... more...

PART I. I. The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun. And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,And lifts his palms for the first... more...

TO THE MOTHER "A Court as of angels, A public not to be bribed, Not to be entreated, Not to be overawed." Such is the audience—in long clothes or short frocks, in pinafores or kilts, or in the brief trousers that bespeak the budding man—such is the crowing, laughing court, the toddling public that awaits these verses. Every home, large or small, poor or rich, that has a child in it, is a... more...

1ONETWOCome buckle my Shoe.You lazy Elf!Pray do it yourself. Philadel Pub. and Sold by W. Charles. 34THREEFOURShut the door:Let us keep ourselves warmAnd not think of the storm.6FIVESIXI’m picking some sticks,That my mother may makeA nice currant Cake.78SEVENEIGHTYou are come here too late.’Tis all one to Ben,He can go home again.910NINETENWho’ll buy a fat Hen?Her bones are so smallYou may eat... more...

AN UPBRAIDING Now I am dead you sing to me   The songs we used to know,But while I lived you had no wish   Or care for doing so. Now I am dead you come to me   In the moonlight, comfortless;Ah, what would I have given alive   To win such tenderness! When you are dead, and stand to me   Not differenced, as now,But like again, will you be cold   As when we lived, or how? "These... more...

A SON OF THE SEAI was born for deep-sea faring;I was bred to put to sea;Stories of my father's daringFilled me at my mother's knee.I was sired among the surges;I was cubbed beside the foam;All my heart is in its verges,And the sea wind is my home.All my boyhood, from far vernalBourns of being, came to meDream-like, plangent, and eternalMemories of the plunging sea. Oh, the shambling sea is a... more...