Poetry Books

THE SHADOW SHOWTrains with wheels and clouds of smoke,Funny crowds of dodging folk,Trams that run along with sparks,Sofa games and pillow larks,Grubs and ponies, worms and tigers,Sparrows on the tree,Oh!What a lot of lots of thingsFor little boys to see!Aeroplanes and paper darts,Woodmen driving broken carts,Minahs on the chimney tops,Swallows dodging near the shops,Barking pups that make the... more...

INTRODUCTION WILLIAM CORY (Johnson) was born at Torrington in Devonshire, on January 9, 1823. He was the son of Charles William Johnson, a merchant, who retired at the early age of thirty, with a modest competence, and married his cousin, Theresa Furse, of Halsdon, near Torrington, to whom he had long been attached. He lived a quiet, upright, peaceable life at Torrington, content with little, and... more...

CANTO VII "AH me! O Satan! Satan!" loud exclaim'dPlutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd,To comfort me thus spake: "Let not thy fearHarm thee, for power in him, be sure, is noneTo hinder down this rock thy safe descent."Then to that sworn lip turning, "Peace!"  he cried, "Curs'd wolf! thy fury inward on thyselfPrey,... more...

INTRODUCTION If we define poetry as the heart of man expressed in beautiful language, we shall not say that we have no national poetry. True, America has produced no Shakespeare and no Milton, but we have an inheritance in all English literature; and many poets in America have followed in the footsteps of their literary British forefathers. Puritan life was severe. It was warfare, and manual labor of a... more...

APPLES so round, and bright, and red—O, how I love to see;They look so tempting as they hangUpon the green old tree. A naughty boy once tried to stealFrom off his neighbor's bough;But sad to hear, adown he fell,And is a cripple now.   BOYS oftentimes are rough and rude,And join in wicked play;But hoop and top, and bat and ball,Are better any day. "Hark! hark! I hear a tinkling bell;It... more...

I. PRELUDE Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last nightWhen, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight,She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart,Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlornInto a single cry, and thou wast born?Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief;Invisible enchantress of the heart;Mistress of charms that bring reliefTo sorrow, and to joy impartA heavenly tone that keeps it... more...

THE AULD DOCTOR. O' a' the jobs that sweat the sarkGie me a kintra doctor's wark,Ye ca' awa' frae dawn till dark,Whate'er the weather be, O! Some tinkler wife is in the strae,Your boots are owre the taps wi' clayThrough wadin' bog an' sklimmin' braeThe besom for to see, O! Ye ken auld Jock o' Windybarns?The bull had near ca'ed oot his... more...

INTRODUCTION. o have attempted in former times a work of this description, would have seemed, we cannot deny, to savour either of presumption or of idiotcy, or more probably of both. And rightly. But we live in times of progress. The mystery of yesterday is the common-place of to-day; the Bible, which was Newton's oracle, is Professor Huxley's jest-book; and students at the University now... more...

CANTO XXIX SO were mine eyes inebriate with viewOf the vast multitude, whom various woundsDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep. But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight belowAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?Thou hast not shewn in any chasm besideThis weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number themThat two and twenty miles the... more...

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