Poetry Books
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Oliver Herford
A Serious Question A kitten went a-walkingOne morning in July,And idly fell a-talkingWith a great big butterfly. The kitten’s tone was airy,The butterfly would scoff;When there came along a fairyWho whisked his wings right off. And then—for it is writtenFairies can do such things—Upon the startled kittenShe stuck the yellow wings. The kitten felt a quiver,She rose into the air,Then flew down to...
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A Defective Santa Claus Allus when our Pa he's away Nen Uncle Sidney comes to stay At our house here—so Ma an' me An' Etty an' Lee-Bob won't be Afeard ef anything at night Might happen—like Ma says it might. (Ef Trip wuz big, I bet you he 'Uz best watch-dog you ever see!) An' so last winter—ist before It's go' be Chris'mus-Day,—w'y, shore...
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by:
Thomas Cowherd
William and AmeliaMy GardenThe Inebriate's Daughter's Appeal to her FatherTo the Children in Mrs. Day's SchoolSong to BrantfordTo Elihu BurrittTo a VioletEmma, the Tinker's DaughterTo my Father, supposed to be dyingOde to PeaceStanzas suggested by a Funeral ACROSTICS: I. To Mr. J. P——n, Missouri II. To my Eldest Son, in severe sickness III. A Tribute to the Memory...
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CONTENTS OF FIRST LINES: To the Man of the High NorthMy rhymes are rough, and often in my rhyming Men of the High NorthMen of the High North, the wild sky is blazing; The Ballad of the Northern LightsOne of the Down and Out—that's me. Stare at me well, ay, stare! The Ballad of the Black Fox SkinThere was Claw-fingered Kitty and Windy Ike living the life of shame, The Ballad of Pious PeteI tried...
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by:
Henry Van Dyke
LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristaeus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music, Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees. Happy Aristaeus loitered in the garden, wandered in the orchard, Careless and contented,...
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CHAPTER I Motives to the present work—Reception of the Author's first publication—Discipline of his taste at school—Effect of contemporary writers on youthful minds—Bowles's Sonnets—Comparison between the poets before and since Pope. It has been my lot to have had my name introduced both in conversation, and in print, more frequently than I find it easy to explain, whether I...
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THE SEABOARD.Thesea is at ebb, and the sound of her utmost wordIs soft as the least wave’s lapse in a still small reach.From bay into bay, on quest of a goal deferred,From headland ever to headland and breach to breachWhere earth gives ear to the message that all days preachWith changes of gladness and sadness that cheer and chide,The lone way lures me along by a chance untriedThat haply, if hope...
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by:
Robert Frost
Into My Own ONE of my wishes is that those dark trees,So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze,Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,But stretched away unto the edge of doom.I should not be withheld but that some dayInto their vastness I should steal away,Fearless of ever finding open land,Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.I do not see why I should e'er turn back,Or...
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by:
Walter Pater
[213] THE "aesthetic" poetry is neither a mere reproduction of Greek or medieval poetry, nor only an idealisation of modern life and sentiment. The atmosphere on which its effect depends belongs to no simple form of poetry, no actual form of life. Greek poetry, medieval or modern poetry, projects, above the realities of its time, a world in which the forms of things are transfigured. Of that...
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Rufus Gale speaks—1852 Yes,—in the Lincoln Militia,—in the war of eighteen-twelve; Many's the day I've had since then to dig and delve— But those are the years I remember as the brightest years of all, When we left the plow in the furrow to follow the bugle's call. Why, even our son Abner wanted to fight with the men! "Don't you go, d'ye hear, sir!"—I was...
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