Poetry Books

Showing: 291-300 results of 896

1. THE ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.I write of Youth, of Love;—and have accessBy these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,Of balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris.I sing of times... more...

by: Anonymous
The editor of the new edition of Mother Goose's Melodies knows much more about the curious history of the Boston edition than I do. And the reader will not need, even in these lines of mine, any light on the curious question about Madam Vergoose, or her son-in-law Mr. Fleet, or the Contes de Ma Mere l'Oye, which are so carefully discussed in the preface. All this is admirably discussed also... more...

In Macao. A Story from the "Grasshopper's Library." I was seated one pleasant day in the garden, which was given to the city of Macao by the Marcos family, near the grotto sacred to the poet Camoens, when a Portuguese priest came from among the wilderness of flowers and sat beside me. He spoke English with a pleasant accent and we read Bowring's effusion together, as it is engraved on... more...

"ALL'S WELL"IThe illimitable leaping of the sea,The mouthing of his madness to the moon,The seething of his endless sorcery,His prophecy no power can attune,Swept over me as, on the sounding prowOf a great ship that steered into the stars,I stood and felt the awe upon my browOf death and destiny and all that mars.IIThe wind that blew from Cassiopeia castWanly upon my ear a rune that... more...

by: Anonymous
THE FOX JUMPS OVER THE PARSON’S GATE   The Huntsman blows his horn in the morn, When folks goes hunting, oh! When folks goes hunting, oh! When folks goes hunting, oh! The Huntsman blows his horn in the morn, When folks goes hunting, oh!         The Fox jumps over the Parson’s gate, And the Hounds all after him go, And the Hounds all after him go, And the Hounds all after him go.   But all my... more...

INTRODUCTION LIFE OF BROWNING Robert Browning was born in Camberwell, London, May 7, 1812. He was contemporary with Tennyson, Dickens, Thackeray, Lowell, Emerson, Hawthorne, Darwin, Spencer, Huxley, Dumas, Hugo, Mendelssohn, Wagner, and a score of other men famous in art and science. Browning's good fortune began with his birth. His father, a clerk in the Bank of England, possessed ample means for... more...

by: Anonymous
“Let us buy,”Said Sally Fry,“Something nice,”Said Betsy Price,“What shall it be,”Said Kitty Lee,“A nice plum cake,”Said Lucy Wake. Which will you have, the doll, or Noah’s Ark? said mother to Mary one day. The doll, if you please, I think I will take, for then I can prettily play. One day John said, as he made his bow,“Mamma, are you at leisure now?Tell me, for much I wish to... more...

INTRODUCTION We remember Samuel Wesley (1662-1735), if at all, as the father of a great religious leader. In his own time he was known to many as a poet and a writer of controversial prose. His poetic career began in 1685 with the publication of Maggots, a collection of juvenile verses on trivial subjects, the preface to which, a frothy concoction, apologizes to the reader because the book is neither... more...

THE HOMES OF ENGLANDThe stately homes of England!How beautiful they stand,Amidst their tall ancestral trees,O'er all the pleasant land!The deer across their greensward boundThrough shade and sunny gleam;And the swan glides by them with the soundOf some rejoicing stream.The merry homes of England!Around their hearths by night,What gladsome looks of household loveMeet in the ruddy light!The blessed... more...

The Hill   Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,  The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?  All, all are sleeping on the hill.   One passed in a fever,  One was burned in a mine,  One was killed in a brawl,  One died in a jail,  One fell from a bridge toiling for children and wife—  All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.... more...