Poetry Books

GOBLIN MARKET Morning and eveningMaids heard the goblins cry:'Come buy our orchard fruits,Come buy, come buy:Apples and quinces,Lemons and oranges,Plump unpecked cherries,Melons and raspberries,Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,Swart-headed mulberries, 10Wild free-born cranberries,Crab-apples, dewberries,Pine-apples, blackberries,Apricots, strawberries;—All ripe togetherIn summer weather,—Morns that... more...

YE votaries of Fashion, who have it to boast,That your names to posterity will not be lost;That the lastdue honor paidTo the still-blooming Dowager’s gay Masquerade;That the Minister’s Dinner has blaz’d in,That the Countess’s Gala has jingled in rhymes;Oh! tell me, who would not endeavour to please,And exert ev’ry nerve, for rewards such as these?[p6]It was early in Spring—but no matter what... more...

DAISY. This little Daisy we all love,Because it seems to say,“I’m come to tell good girls and boys,That Winter’s gone away.” There is another flower, too,I dearly love to see;The little Snowdrop, peeping throughThe frozen ground at me. PRIMROSE. This is a pretty Primrose,In shady lanes it grows;And early in the pleasant spring,In gardens too it blows. Here is a formal Daffodil,Though common,... more...

FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS FIFTY YEARSO brothers mine, to-day we standWhere half a century sweeps our ken,Since God, through Lincoln's ready hand,Struck off our bonds and made us men.Just fifty years—a winter's day—As runs the history of a race;Yet, as we look back o'er the way,How distant seems our starting place!Look farther back! Three centuries!To where a naked, shivering... more...

ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS ………. TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON CHAMPION of those who groan beneathOppression's iron handIn view of penury, hate, and death,I see thee fearless stand.Still bearing up thy lofty brow,In the steadfast strength of truth,In manhood sealing well the vowAnd promise of thy youth. Go on, for thou hast chosen well;On in the strength of God!Long as one human heart shall swellBeneath... more...

PREFACE. Scotland has probably produced a more patriotic and more extended minstrelsy than any other country in the world. Those Caledonian harp-strains, styled by Sir Walter Scott "gems of our own mountains," have frequently been gathered into caskets of national song, but have never been stored in any complete cabinet; while no attempt has been made, at least on an ample scale, to adapt, by... more...

As in a Rose-Jar As in a rose-jar filled with petals sweet Blown long ago in some old garden place, Mayhap, where you and I, a little space, Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet— Or leaves once gathered from a lost retreat By one who never will again retrace Her silent footsteps—one, whose gentle face Was fairer than the roses at her feet; So, deep within the vase of memory, I keep my... more...

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Christmas Roses A BUNCH of Christmas Roses, dear,To greet my fairest child,I plucked them in my garden whereThe drifting snow lay piled. I cannot bring thee violets dear,Or cowslips growing wild,Or daisy chain for thee to wear,For thee to wear, my child.For all the grassy meadows nearAre clad with snow, my child;Through all the days of winter drearNo ray of sun has smiled.I plucked this bunch of... more...

Milkmaid. An Old Song exhibited & explainedin many designs by R. Caldecott. A Lady said to her Son—a poor young Squire: “You must seek a Wife with a Fortune!”           “Where are you going, my Pretty Maid?” “I'm going a-milking, Sir,” she said.         “Shall I go with you, my Pretty Maid?” “Oh yes, if you please, kind Sir,” she said.       “What is your... more...