Poetry Books

POEMS OF THE FIRST PERIOD. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. [This and the following poem are, with some alterations, introducedin the Play of "The Robbers."] ANDROMACHE.Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain,Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain,Stalks Peleus' ruthless son?Who, when thou glid'st amid the dark abodes,To hurl the spear and to revere the gods,Shall teach thine orphan... more...

A for Arab.This Arab is upset, I fear;Look at his pretty shield and spear.He's stuck two pistols in his sash,And, dear me, how his eyes do flash!At home he has a horse to ride;To "scour the desert" is his pride.His horse is of the purest breed;Some people call his horse a steed.Here is your little brother Boer,Of course, you've heard of him before;He has a naughty Uncle Paul,Who used... more...

THE BURIAL OF COCK ROBIN. Here lies Cock Robin,Dead and cold;This book his endWill soon unfold. Who kill'd Cock Robin?I, said the Sparrow,With my bow and arrow,And I kill'd Cock Robin. This is the Sparrow,With his bow and arrow. Who saw him die?I, said the fly,With my little eye,And I saw him die. This is the Fly,With his little eye. Who caught his blood?I, said the Fish,With my little... more...

THE STUDY OF POETRY. BY FRANCIS HOVEY STODDARD. Clever men of action, according to Bacon, despise studies, ignorant men too much admire them, wise men make use of them. "Yet," he says, "they teach not their own use, but that there is a wisdom without them and above them won by observation." These are the words of a man who had been taught by years of studiousness the emptiness of mere... more...

CANTO XXIX SO were mine eyes inebriate with viewOf the vast multitude, whom various woundsDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep. But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight belowAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?Thou hast not shewn in any chasm besideThis weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number themThat two and twenty miles the... more...

A DEDICATION TO E.C.B. He was, through boyhood's storm and shower, My best, my nearest friend; We wore one hat, smoked one cigar, One standing at each end. We were two hearts with single hope, Two faces in one hood; I knew the secrets of his youth; I watched his every mood. The little things that none but I Saw were beyond his wont, The streaming hair, the tie behind, The coat tails worn in front.... more...

In the Factory Oh, here in the shop the machines roar so wildly,That oft, unaware that I am, or have been,I sink and am lost in the terrible tumult;And void is my soul… I am but a machine.I work and I work and I work, never ceasing;Create and create things from morning till e'en;For what?—and for whom—Oh, I know not! Oh, ask not!Who ever has heard of a conscious machine? No, here is no... more...

PILATE'S WIFE'S DREAM. I've quench'd my lamp, I struck it in that startWhich every limb convulsed, I heard it fall—The crash blent with my sleep, I saw departIts light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;Over against my bed, there shone a gleamStrange, faint, and mingling also with my dream. It sank, and I am wrapt in utter gloom;How far is night advanced, and when will... more...

INTRODUCTION It is at my persuasion that these poems are now published. The earliest of them were read to me in London in 1896, when the writer was seventeen; the later ones were sent to me from India in 1904, when she was twenty-five; and they belong, I think, almost wholly to those two periods. As they seemed to me to have an individual beauty of their own, I thought they ought to be published. The... more...

BAYBERRY CANDLESDear sweet, when dusk comes up the hill,    The fire leaps high with golden prongs;I place along the chimneysill    The tiny candles of my songs. And though unsteadily they burn,    As evening shades from grey to blueLike candles they will surely learn    To shine more clear, for love of you. SECRET LAUGHTER"I had a secret... more...