Poetry Books

"Come Jane," said grandmamma one day, "'Tis time you learned to sew; At your age I could make a frock, And you should also know." But Jane cared little for such things; She liked to make a noise; She used to run about all day, And shout, and play with boys. So now she only tossed her head And ran with eager feet, And soon was racing up and down, And playing in the street. Once Jane... more...

GLOUCESTER MOORSA mile behind is Gloucester townWhere the fishing fleets put in,A mile ahead the land dips downAnd the woods and farms begin.Here, where the moors stretch freeIn the high blue afternoon,Are the marching sun and talking sea,And the racing winds that wheel and fleeOn the flying heels of June.Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,Blue is the quaker-maid,The wild geranium holds its... more...

+ANTINOUS+ It rained outside right into Hadrian's soul. The boy lay deadOn the low couch, on whose denuded whole,To Hadrian's eyes, that at their seeing bled,The shadowy light of Death's eclipse was shed. The boy lay dead and the day seemed a nightOutside. The rain fell like a sick affrightOf Nature at her work in killing him.Through the mind's galleries of their past... more...

LIFE OF KEATS Of all the great poets of the early nineteenth century—Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, Byron, Shelley, Keats—John Keats was the last born and the first to die. The length of his life was not one-third that of Wordsworth, who was born twenty-five years before him and outlived him by twenty-nine. Yet before his tragic death at twenty-six Keats had produced a body of poetry of such... more...

PROEM "SO LET THEM PASS, THESE SONGS OF MINE"   So let them pass, these songs of mine,  Into oblivion, nor repine;  Abandoned ruins of large schemes,  Dimmed lights adrift from nobler dreams,   Weak wings I sped on quests divine,  So let them pass, these songs of mine.  They soar, or sink ephemeral—  I care not greatly which befall!   For if no song I e'er had... more...

JACK and JILL,Went up the hill,To fetch a pail of water,Jack fell down,And broke his crown,And Jill came tumbling after.Then up JACK got,And home did trot,As fast as he could caper;DAME GILL did the job,To plaster his nob,With Vinegar and brown paper.Then JILL came in,And she did grin,To see JACK’S paper plaster,Her mother put her,A fools cap on,For laughing at Jack’s disaster.This made JILL... 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...

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The Rubáiyát of aPersian KittenWake! for the Golden Cat has put to flightThe Mouse of Darkness with his Paw of Light:Which means, in Plain and simple every-dayUnoriental Speech—The Dawn is bright.They say the Early Bird the Worm shall taste.Then rise, O Kitten! Wherefore, sleeping, wasteThe Fruits of Virtue? Quick! the Early BirdWill soon be on the Flutter—O make haste!The Early Bird has gone,... more...

ANCIENT BANNER.In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,The bosom of his Father, and assumedA servant's form, though he had reigned a king,In realms of glory, ere the worlds were made,Or the creating words, "Let there be light"In heaven were uttered. But though veiled in flesh,His Deity and his Omnipotence,Were manifest in miracles. DiseaseFled at his bidding, and the buried deadRose from the... more...