Poetry Books
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Rudyard Kipling
BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHER VERSES 1889-1891TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled —Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled —Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world. They are purged of pride because they died, they know the worth of their bays,They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of...
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by:
Samuel Johnson
INTRODUCTION The pieces reproduced in this little volume are now beginning to bid for notice from their third century of readers. At the time they were written, although Johnson had already done enough miscellaneous literary work to fill several substantial volumes, his name, far from identifying an "Age", was virtually unknown to the general public. The Vanity of Human Wishes was the first of...
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Rio Grande's Last Race Now this was what Macpherson toldWhile waiting in the stand;A reckless rider, over-bold,The only man with hands to holdThe rushing Rio Grande. He said, 'This day I bid good-byeTo bit and bridle rein,To ditches deep and fences high,For I have dreamed a dream, and IShall never ride again. 'I dreamt last night I rode this raceThat I to-day must ride,And cant'ring...
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by:
Rudyard Kipling
TheCities are full of pride,Challenging each to each—This from her mountain-side,That from her burthened beach.They count their ships full tale—Their corn and oil and wine,Derrick and loom and bale,And rampart's gun-flecked line;City by city they hail:"Hast aught to match with mine?"And the men that breed from themThey traffic up and down,But cling to their cities' hemAs a child to...
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Song of the Pen Not for the love of women toil we, we of the craft,Not for the people's praise;Only because our goddess made us her own and laughed,Claiming us all our days, Claiming our best endeavour—body and heart and brainGiven with no reserve—Niggard is she towards us, granting us little gain;Still, we are proud to serve. Not unto us is given choice of the tasks we try,Gathering grain or...
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by:
Andrew Lang
R. F. MURRAY—1863-1893 Much is written about success and failure in the career of literature, about the reasons which enable one man to reach the front, and another to earn his livelihood, while a third, in appearance as likely as either of them, fails and, perhaps, faints by the way. Mr. R. F. Murray, the author of The Scarlet Gown, was among those who do not attain success, in spite of qualities...
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CANTO IX THE hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeksImprinted, when I saw my guide turn back,Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn,And inwardly restrain'd it. He, as oneWho listens, stood attentive: for his eyeNot far could lead him through the sable air,And the thick-gath'ring cloud. "It yet behoovesWe win this fight"—thus he began—"if not—Such aid to us...
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ERMELINE. With lance upraised so haughtily Sir Thunye rides from Alsey town;On land and main he was, I ween, A daring knight of high renown. Sir Thunye rides in good green wood, He fain will chase the nimble hare;And there he meeteth the Dwarf’s daughter, All with her band of maidens fair. Sir Thunye rides in good green wood, To chase the nimble hart and hind;And there he meets...
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PREFACE. In this, the third series of Breakfast-Table conversations, a slight dramatic background shows off a few talkers and writers, aided by certain silent supernumeraries. The machinery is much like that of the two preceding series. Some of the characters must seem like old acquaintances to those who have read the former papers. As I read these over for the first time for a number of years, I...
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by:
Bliss Carman
VAGABONDIA. Off with the fettersThat chafe and restrain!Off with the chain!Here Art and Letters,Music and wine,And Myrtle and Wanda,The winsome witches,Blithely combine.Here are true riches,Here is Golconda,Here are the Indies,Here we are free—Free as the wind is,Free, as the sea.Free! Houp-la! What have weTo do with the wayOf the Pharisee?We go or we stayAt our own sweet will;We think as we say,And...
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