Poetry Books

I    [Bass drum beaten loudly.]  Booth led boldly with his big bass drum—  (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)  The Saints smiled gravely and they said: "He's come."  (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)  Walking lepers followed, rank on rank,  Lurching bravoes from the ditches dank,  Drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale—  Minds still... more...

Rufus Gale speaks—1852 Yes,—in the Lincoln Militia,—in the war of eighteen-twelve; Many's the day I've had since then to dig and delve— But those are the years I remember as the brightest years of all, When we left the plow in the furrow to follow the bugle's call. Why, even our son Abner wanted to fight with the men! "Don't you go, d'ye hear, sir!"—I was... more...

[213] THE "aesthetic" poetry is neither a mere reproduction of Greek or medieval poetry, nor only an idealisation of modern life and sentiment. The atmosphere on which its effect depends belongs to no simple form of poetry, no actual form of life. Greek poetry, medieval or modern poetry, projects, above the realities of its time, a world in which the forms of things are transfigured. Of that... more...

THE SEABOARD.Thesea is at ebb, and the sound of her utmost wordIs soft as the least wave’s lapse in a still small reach.From bay into bay, on quest of a goal deferred,From headland ever to headland and breach to breachWhere earth gives ear to the message that all days preachWith changes of gladness and sadness that cheer and chide,The lone way lures me along by a chance untriedThat haply, if hope... more...

CHAPTER I Motives to the present work—Reception of the Author's first publication—Discipline of his taste at school—Effect of contemporary writers on youthful minds—Bowles's Sonnets—Comparison between the poets before and since Pope. It has been my lot to have had my name introduced both in conversation, and in print, more frequently than I find it easy to explain, whether I... more...

LEGEND   Long ago Apollo called to Aristaeus, youngest      of the shepherds,    Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees."  Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey;      golden, too, the music,    Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees.   Happy Aristaeus loitered in the garden, wandered      in the orchard,    Careless and contented,... more...

CONTENTS OF FIRST LINES: To the Man of the High NorthMy rhymes are rough, and often in my rhyming Men of the High NorthMen of the High North, the wild sky is blazing; The Ballad of the Northern LightsOne of the Down and Out—that's me. Stare at me well, ay, stare! The Ballad of the Black Fox SkinThere was Claw-fingered Kitty and Windy Ike living the life of shame, The Ballad of Pious PeteI tried... more...

SYMBOLISMTongueless the bell!Lute without a song!It is not nightIt is God's dawn,Silence its unending song.Over heart's valley,In the soul's night,Through pain's windowBehold! His light!On Life's Height.No prayer, now,Though death-waves roll,Faith's candle lit,Beside it sits the soulReading Eternity's scroll. SOURCE OF SINGINGA bruised heart,A wounded soul,A broken... more...

THE ROCK-A-BY LADY The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby streetComes stealing; comes creeping;The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet—She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,When she findeth you sleeping! There is one little dream of a beautiful drum—"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth;There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum,And lo! thick and fast... more...

William and AmeliaMy GardenThe Inebriate's Daughter's Appeal to her FatherTo the Children in Mrs. Day's SchoolSong to BrantfordTo Elihu BurrittTo a VioletEmma, the Tinker's DaughterTo my Father, supposed to be dyingOde to PeaceStanzas suggested by a Funeral ACROSTICS:    I. To Mr. J. P——n, Missouri   II. To my Eldest Son, in severe sickness  III. A Tribute to the Memory... more...