Poetry Books

A GENTLEMAN OF THE HIGHWAYS By KATHRYN JARBOE Since early morning nothing but sunshine had entered the hospitable doorway of The Jolly Grig, a tavern not a dozen miles from the outer edge of London town. Across the white, sanded floor golden patches of light had moved with measured tread, and merry motes had danced in the golden beams, but nothing else had stirred. On the deep hearth were piled huge... more...

I NEVER SAW THAT LAND BEFORE I NEVER saw that land before,And now can never see it again;Yet, as if by acquaintance hoarEndeared, by gladness and by pain,Great was the affection that I bore To the valley and the river small,The cattle, the grass, the bare ash trees,The chickens from the farmsteads, allElm-hidden, and the tributariesDescending at equal interval; The blackthorns down along the brookWith... more...

THE THREE JOVIAL HUNTSMEN.          It's of three jovial huntsmen, an' a hunting they did go;An' they hunted, an' they hollo'd, an' they blew their horns alsoLook ye there!An' one said, "Mind yo'r e'en, an' keep yo'r noses reet i' th' windAn' then, by scent or seet, we'll leet o' summat to our mind."Look ye... more...

Hark! hark! the dogs bark,The beggars are coming to town;Some in rags and some in tags,And some in a silken gown.Some gave them white bread,And some gave them brown,And some gave them a good horse-whip,And sent them out of the town.   Little Jack Horner sat in the corner,Eating a Christmas pie;He put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum,And said, oh! what a good boy am I.   There was an old womanLived... more...

PREFACE. The idea of translating Catullus in the original metres adopted by the poet himself was suggested to me many years ago by the admirable, though, in England, insufficiently known, version of Theodor Heyse (Berlin, 1855). My first attempts were modelled upon him, and were so unsuccessful that I dropt the idea for some time altogether. In 1868, the year following the publication of my larger... more...

upon a time I visited Fairy-land and spent a day in Goblin-town. The people there are much like ourselves, only they are very, very small and roguish. They play pranks on one another and have great fun. They are good natured and jolly, and rarely get angry. But if one does get angry, he quickly recovers his good nature and joins again in the sport. If a Goblin should continue angry he would take on some... more...

THE DONG WITH A LUMINOUS NOSE. When awful darkness and silence reignOver the great Gromboolian plain,Through the long, long wintry nights; When the angry breakers roarAs they beat on the rocky shore;When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore,— Then, through the vast and gloomy darkThere moves what seems a fiery spark,—A lonely spark with silvery rays Piercing... more...

SUPPRESSED POEMS. THE JOURNALISTS AND MINOS. I chanced the other eve,—But how I ne'er will tell,—The paper to receive.That's published down in hell. In general one may guess,I little care to seeThis free-corps of the pressGot up so easily; But suddenly my eyesA side-note chanced to meet,And fancy my surpriseAt reading in the sheet:— "For twenty weary springs"(The post from... more...

The Tongues of ToilDo you hear the call from a hundred lands.Lords of a dying name?We are the men of sinewed handsWhom the earth and the seas acclaim.We are the hoards that made you lords.And gathered your gear and spoil.And we speak with a word that should be heard—Hark to the tongues of toil! The power of your hands it falls at last,The strength of your rule is o'er,Where the might of a... more...

TheCities are full of pride,Challenging each to each—This from her mountain-side,That from her burthened beach.They count their ships full tale—Their corn and oil and wine,Derrick and loom and bale,And rampart's gun-flecked line;City by city they hail:"Hast aught to match with mine?"And the men that breed from themThey traffic up and down,But cling to their cities' hemAs a child to... more...