Poetry Books

SÉANCE AT SUNRISEPlace the new handsIn the old handsOf the old generation,And let us tilt tablesIn the high roomOf our imagination.Let the thick veil glow thin,At sunrise—at sunrise—Let the strange eyes peer in,The red, the black, and the white facesOf the still living deadOf the three races.Let a quaint voice begin: Voice of an Indian "Gone from the land,We leave the music of our names,As... more...

THE GREEN KNIGHTKing Arthur and his court were blithe and gayIn high-towered Camelot, on Christmas day,For all the Table Round were back again,At peace with God and with their fellow-men.Their shields hung idly on the pictured wall;Their blood-stained banners decked the festal hallLight footsteps, rustling on the rush-strewn floors,And laughter, rippling down long corridors,Attested minds at ease and... more...

AFTER HORACE   What asks the Bard? He prays for nought    But what the truly virtuous crave:  That is, the things he plainly ought        To have.   'Tis not for wealth, with all the shocks    That vex distracted millionaires,  Plagued by their fluctuating stocks        And shares:   While plutocrats their millions new    Expend upon each costly whim,  A... more...

The Grand Old Man of Oakworth. Come, hand me down that rustic harp,   From off that rugged wall,For I must sing another song   To suit the Muse’s call,For she is bent to sing a pœan,   On this eventful year,In praise of the philanthropist   Whom all his friends hold dear—      The Grand Old Man of Oakworth,      Beyond his eightieth year! No flattery!  My honest Muse,   Nor... more...

A FATHER OF WOMEN Ad Sororem E. B. “Thy father was transfused into thy blood.” Dryden: Ode to Mrs. Anne Killigrew.       Our father works in us,The daughters of his manhood.  Not undoneIs he, not wasted, though transmuted thus,      And though he left no son.       Therefore on him I cryTo arm me: “For my delicate mind a casque,A breastplate for my heart, courage to... more...

Old Mother Duck has hatched a broodOf ducklings, small and callow:Their little wings are short, their downIs mottled gray and yellow. There is a quiet little stream,That runs into the moat,Where tall green sedges spread their leaves,And water-lilies float. Close by the margin of the brook,The old duck made her nest,Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass,And down from her own breast. View larger... more...

DEDICATION Bob Southey! You're a poet, poet laureate,And representative of all the race.Although 'tis true that you turned out a Tory atLast, yours has lately been a common case.And now my epic renegade, what are ye atWith all the lakers, in and out of place?A nest of tuneful persons, to my eyeLike four and twenty blackbirds in a pye, Which pye being opened they began to sing'(This old... more...

HERO AND LEANDER. Two editions of Hero and Leander appeared in 1598. The first edition, containing only Marlowe's portion of the poem, is entitled Hero and Leander. By Christopher Marloe. London, Printed by Adam Islip, for Edward Blunt. 1598. 4to. The title-page of the second edition, which contains the complete poem, is Hero and Leander: Begun by Christopher Marloe; and finished by George... more...

I Pearl that the Prince full well might prize,So surely set in shining gold!No pearl of Orient with her vies;To prove her peerless I make bold:So round, so radiant to mine eyes,smooth she seemed, so small to hold,Among all jewels judges wiseWould count her best an hundred fold.Alas! I lost my pearl of old!I pine with heart-pain unforgot;Down through my arbour grass it rolled,My own pearl, precious,... more...

BEING A WORD ON BEHALF OF PATCHOULI. AN ingenuous reviewer once described some verses of mine as "unwholesome," because, he said, they had "a faint smell of Patchouli about them." I am a little sorry he chose Patchouli, for that is not a particularly favourite scent with me. If he had only chosen Peau d'Espagne, which has a subtle meaning, or Lily of the Valley, with which I have... more...