Poetry Books

PIPES O' PAN AT ZEKESBURY   The pipes of Pan! Not idler now are they  Than when their cunning fashioner first blew  The pith of music from them: Yet for you  And me their notes are blown in many a way  Lost in our murmurings for that old day  That fared so well, without us.—Waken to  The pipings here at hand:—The clear halloo  Of truant-voices, and the roundelay  The waters... more...

A FOREWORD When the first Miscellany of American Poetry appeared in 1920, innumerable were the questions asked by both readers and reviewers of publishers and contributors alike. The modest note on the jacket appeared to satisfy no one. The volume purported to have no editor, yet a collection without an editor was pronounced preposterous. It was obviously not the organ of a school, yet it did not seem... more...

INDEX OF THE FIRST LINES Ah, these jasminesAh, who was it coloured that little frockBless this little heartChild, how happy you are sitting in the dustCome and hire meDay by day I float my paper boatsI am small because I am a little childIf baby only wanted to, he could flyIf I were only a little puppyIf people came to know where my king's palace isI long to go over thereImagine, motherI only... more...

DEAR TOM—Allow me to request you to introduce Mr. Peter Bell to the respectable family of the Fudges. Although he may fall short of those very considerable personages in the more active properties which characterize the Rat and the Apostate, I suspect that even you, their historian, will confess that he surpasses them in the more peculiarly legitimate qualification of intolerable dulness. You know... more...

THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE I. TO MAECENAS. Maecenas, descended from royal ancestors, O both my protection and my darling honor! There are those whom it delights to have collected Olympic dust in the chariot race; and [whom] the goal nicely avoided by the glowing wheels, and the noble palm, exalts, lords of the earth, to the gods. This man, if a crowd of the capricious Quirites strive to... more...

I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kinds, noting the essential quality of each; to inquire into the structure of the plot as requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of which a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within the same inquiry. Following, then, the order of nature, let us begin with the principles which come first. Epic... more...

Bread Poems   Lullaby  Embarkation of Cythera  Christian Luxuries  Narrow Flowers  Eyes  After Youth  The Shadow that Walks Alone  Bible Truth  The Maternal Breast  Air for G String  Destiny The Red Cross   Hectic I-II  Isolation Ward  The Red Cross  Hospital Night Domestic Canticle   Spring Song  Home Again  To a Sick Child  Love Song  Quarrel  My Child  The... more...

SONGS OF DESIRE I'd like to be a gypsyWith gold rings in my ears,Along the road to sit and sing,And not do another thingFor years and years; A road to dream upon by day,A fire for dreams at night,Free to wander far away,Free to shout and free to play,Quite impolite. I'd pitch my tent beside a wall,All apple trees within,And if the apples didn't fall,I wouldn't hesitate at... more...

THE GOD AND THE OPALTO THÉOPHILE GAUTIER Gray caught he from the cloud, and green from earth,And from a human breast the fire he drew,And life and death were blended in one dew.A sunbeam golden with the morning's mirth,A wan, salt phantom from the sea, a girthOf silver from the moon, shot colour throughThe soul invisible, until it grewTo fulness, and the Opal Song had birth. And then the god... more...

INTRODUCTORY SONNET   A Sonnet is a moment's monument,—  Memorial from the Soul's eternity  To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,  Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,  Of its own arduous fulness reverent:  Carve it in ivory or in ebony,  As Day or Night may rule; and let Time see  Its flowering crest impearled and orient.   A Sonnet is a coin: its face... more...