Poetry Books

INTRODUCTION Because man is both militant and pacific, he has expressed in literature, as indeed in the other forms of art, his pacific and militant moods. Nor are these moods, of necessity, incompatible. War may become the price of peace, and peace may so decay as inevitably to bring about war. Of the dully unresponsive pacificist and the jingo patriot, quick to anger, the latter no doubt is the more... more...

MY DOG TRAY.Twice every week a poor, thin man,Holding his little daughter’s hand,Walked feebly to a hospital,Close by the busy London Strand.He hoped the clever doctors thereIn time would make him strong and well,That he might go to work again,And live to care for little Nell.Beside wee Nell, her faithful friend,Good old dog Tray was always seen,Never a day apart the pairSince Nelly’s babyhood had... more...

INTRODUCTION The father of Frederick Locker Lampson (or Frederick Locker, according to the name by which he is generally known) was Edward Hawke Locker, at one time Commissioner of Greenwich Hospital.  He is described in the “Dictionary of National Biography” as “a man of varied talents and accomplishments, Fellow of the Royal Society, an excellent artist in water-colour, a charming... more...

A YEAR'S WINDFALLS Who comes dancing over the snow, His soft little feet all bare and rosy? Open the door, though the wild winds blow, Take the child in and make him cosy.Take him in and hold him dear,He is the wonderful glad New Year.Dinah M. Mulock. Marjorie's Almanac Robins in the tree-top,Blossoms in the grass,Green things a-growingEverywhere you pass;Sudden little breezes,Showers of... more...

I—THE VAGABOND(To an air of Schubert) Give to me the life I love,   Let the lave go by me,Give the jolly heaven above   And the byway nigh me.Bed in the bush with stars to see,   Bread I dip in the river—There’s the life for a man like me,   There’s the life for ever. Let the blow fall soon or late,   Let what will be o’er me;Give the face of earth around   And the road before... more...

BOOK FIRST. I.h! who can tell how hard it is to climbThe steep, where Fame’s proud temple shines afar!Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublimeHas felt the influence of malignant star,And waged with Fortune an eternal war!Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy’s frown,And Poverty’s unconquerable bar,In life’s low vale remote has pined alone,Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown! II.And... more...

Poetry. Bite Bigger. As aw hurried throo th' taan to mi wark,(Aw wur lat, for all th' whistles had gooan,)Aw happen'd to hear a remark,'At ud fotch tears throo th' heart ov a stooan—It wur raanin, an' snawin, and cowd,An' th' flagstoans wur covered wi' muck,An' th' east wind booath whistled an' howl'd,It saanded like nowt but ill... more...

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... more...

PREFACE. Several years ago, the maker of this version translated into French one of the early works of H. W. Longfellow. This circumstance was not forgotten by the American poet who kindly consented to listen to this new attempt at rendering into English the "CHANSON DE ROLAND." To his encouragement is due the present publication. The writer will ever proudly treasure up the remembrance of his... more...

Author's Introduction   To you who have lifted the veil of mists o'er-blown  And gazed in the eyes of dawn when night had flown—  Have felt in your hearts a thrill of sheer delight  As you scanned the scene below from some alpine height—  I extend this fleeting glimpse across a world  Of forest and meadow land—at last unfurled—  Through vistas of soaring peaks with... more...