Poetry Books

MAY. O love, this morn when the sweet nightingaleHad so long finished all he had to say,That thou hadst slept, and sleep had told his tale;And midst a peaceful dream had stolen awayIn fragrant dawning of the first of May,Didst thou see aught? didst thou hear voices singEre to the risen sun the bells 'gan ring? For then methought the Lord of Love went byTo take possession of his flowery... more...

In the tenth book of the Republic, when Plato has completed his final burning denunciation of Poetry, the false Siren, the imitator of things which themselves are shadows, the ally of all that is low and weak in the soul against that which is high and strong, who makes us feed the things we ought to starve and serve the things we ought to rule, he ends with a touch of compunction: 'We will give... more...

This volume, while it is complete in itself, is also the first of a trilogy, the scope of which is suggested in the prologue. The story of scientific discovery has its own epic unity—a unity of purpose and endeavour—the single torch passing from hand to hand through the centuries; and the great moments of science when, after long labour, the pioneers saw their accumulated facts falling into a... more...

Justinian at WindermereWetook a hundredweight of booksTo Windermere between us,Our dons had blessed our studious looks,Had they by chance but seen us.Maine, Blackstone, Sandars, all were there,And Hallam'sMiddle Ages,And Austin with his style so rare,And Poste's enticing pages.We started well: the little innWas deadly dull and quiet,As dull as Mrs. Wood'sEast Lynne,Or as the verse of... more...

INTRODUCTION One Spring day in London, long before the invention of freak verse and Freudism, I was standing in front of the Cafe Royal in Regent Street when there emerged from its portals the most famous young writer of the day, the Poet about whose latest work "The Book Bills of Narcissus" all literary London was then talking. Richard Le Gallienne was the first real poet I had ever laid eyes... more...

MY BUNKIE   He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan,  He'd surely come under society's ban,  He's a swearin', fightin' cavalryman,    But—he's my bunkie.   He's weathered the winds of the Western waste.  (You, gentle Christian, would call him debased)  And he's loved at his ease and married in haste,    Has my bunkie.   In a... more...

THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG. A littleold woman, who lived in a house,Too small for a giant, too big for a mouse,—Was sweeping her chambers, (though she had not many,)When she found, by good fortune, a bright silver penny![] Delighted she seized it, and, dancing a jig,Exclaim’d, “With this money I’ll purchase a pig.”So saying, away to the market she went,And the fruits of her fortunate sweeping... more...

L'ALLEGRO   HENCE, loathed Melancholy,  …………Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born  In Stygian cave forlorn  …………'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights  unholy!  Find out some uncouth cell,  …………Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,  And the night-raven sings;  …………There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,  As... more...

THE PECULIAR HISTORY OF THE CHEWING-GUM MAN. WILLIE, an’ Wallie, an’ Huldy Ann,They went an’ built a big CHEWIN’-GUM MAN:It was none o’ your teenty little dots,With pinhole eyes an’ pencil-spots;But this was a terribul big one—well,’T was a’most as high as the Palace Hotel! It took ’em a year to chew the gum!! And Willie he done it all, ’cept someThat Huldy got her ma to chew,By... more...

INTRODUCTION A hope of immortality and a sense of humor distinguish man from the beasts of the field. A single exception may be made, perhaps, of the Laughing Hyena, and, on the other hand, not every one of the human race possesses the power of laughter. For those who do, this volume is intended. And since there can be nothing humorous about an introduction, there can be small need of a lengthy one.... more...