Poetry Books

CLAIR DE LUNE. Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,That play on lutes and dance and have an airOf being sad in their fantastic trim. The while they celebrate in minor strainTriumphant love, effective enterprise,They have an air of knowing all is vain,—And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise, The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,That makes to... more...

OPENING THE WINDOW THUS I lift the sash, so longShut against the flight of song;All too late for vain excuse,—Lo, my captive rhymes are loose. Rhymes that, flitting through my brain,Beat against my window-pane,Some with gayly colored wings,Some, alas! with venomed stings. Shall they bask in sunny rays?Shall they feed on sugared praise?Shall they stick with tangled feetOn the critic's poisoned... more...

CANTO I His glory, by whose might all things are mov'd,Pierces the universe, and in one partSheds more resplendence, elsewhere less.  In heav'n,That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,Witness of things, which to relate againSurpasseth power of him who comes from thence;For that, so near approaching its desireOur intellect is to such depth absorb'd,That memory cannot follow.... more...

I The sister Hours in circles linked,Daughters of men, of men the mates,Are gone on flow with the day that winked,With the night that spanned at golden gates.Mothers, they leave us, quickening seed;They bear us grain or flower or weed,As we have sown; is nought extinctFor them we fill to be our Fates.Life of the breath is but the loan;Passing death what we have sown. Pearly are they till the pale... more...

The BABES IN THE WOOD.Now ponder well, you parents deare,These wordes which I shall write;A doleful story you shall heare,In time brought forth to light.A gentleman of good accountIn Norfolke dwelt of late.Who did in honour far surmountMost men of his estate.Sore sicke he was, and like to dye,No helpe his life could save;His wife by him as sicke did lye,And both possest one grave.No love between these... more...

POEMS OF THE FIRST PERIOD. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. [This and the following poem are, with some alterations, introducedin the Play of "The Robbers."] ANDROMACHE.Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain,Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain,Stalks Peleus' ruthless son?Who, when thou glid'st amid the dark abodes,To hurl the spear and to revere the gods,Shall teach thine orphan... more...

MARSK STIG’S DAUGHTERS Two daughters fair the Marshal had,O grievous was their fate and sad. The eldest she took her sister’s handAnd away they went to Sweden’s land. Home from the Stevn King Byrgye rode;Up to him Marsk Stig’s daughters trode. “What women ye who beset my gate?What brings ye hither at eve so late?” “Daughters of Stig, the Marshal brave,So earnestly thee for help we... more...

INTRODUCTION. “A ray has pierced me from the highest heaven—I have believed in worth; and do believe.” So runs Mr. Woolner’s song, as it proceeds to show the issue of a noble earthly love, one with the heavenly.  Its issue is the life of high endeavour, wherein    “They who would be something moreThan they who feast, and laugh and die, will hearThe voice of Duty, as the note of... more...

MYSTERY OF CARMEL The Mission floor was with weeds o'ergrown,And crumbling and shaky its walls of stone;Its roof of tiles, in tiers and tiers,Had stood the storms of a hundred years.An olden, weird, medieval styleClung to the mouldering, gloomy pile,And the rhythmic voice of the breaking wavesSang a lonesome dirge in its land of graves.As I walked in the Mission old and gray—The Mission Carmel... more...

THE LAW OF THE YUKONThisis the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane.Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore;Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.Send me the... more...