Poetry Books

LET ME SING OF WHAT I KNOWA wild west Coast, a little Town,Where little Folk go up and down,Tides flow and winds blow:Night and Tempest and the Sea,Human Will and Human Fate:What is little, what is great?Howsoe'er the answer be,Let me sing of what I know.Adieu to Belashanny!where I was bred and born;Go where I may, I'll think of you,as sure as night and morn.The kindly spot, the friendly... more...

Select English Classics which the publishers have in course of preparation. The series will include an extensive variety of selections chosen from the different departments of English literature, and arranged and annotated for the use of classes in schools. It will embrace, among other things, representative specimens from all the best English writers, whether of poetry or of prose; selections from... more...

Simple Simon met a pieman,Going to the fair.Says Simple Simon to the pieman“Let me taste your ware.” Says the pieman to Simple Simon,“Show me first your penny.”Says Simple Simon to the pieman,“Indeed, I have not any.” Simon Looking for Plums.Simple Simon went to lookIf plums grew on a thistle,He pricked his fingers very much,Which made poor Simon whistle. Simon Fishing.Simple Simon went... more...

LES DEMOISELLES DE SAUVE TO S. A. S. ALICE, PRINCESSE DE MONACO Beautiful ladies through the orchard pass;Bend under crutched-up branches, forked and low;Trailing their samet palls o'er dew-drenched grass. Pale blossoms, looking on proud Jacqueline,Blush to the colour of her finger tips,And rosy knuckles, laced with yellow lace. High-crested Berthe discerns, with slant, clinched eyes,Amid the... 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...

SIGNELIL The Lady her handmaid to questioning took:“Why dost thou so sickly and colourless look?”   But sorrow gnaws so sorely! “’Tis little wonder if sickly I’m growing,   Malfred my lady!So much am I busied with cutting and sewing.” “Erewhile was thy cheek as the blooming rose red,But now thou art pale, even pale as the dead.” “To conceal the truth longer ’tis vain to essay,My... more...

WOODEN SHIPSThey are remembering forests where they grew,—The midnight quiet, and the giant dance;And all the murmuring summers that they knewAre haunting still their altered circumstance.Leaves they have lost, and robins in the nest,Tug of the goodly earth denied to ships,These, and the rooted certainties, and rest,—To gain a watery girdle at the hips.Only the wind that follows ever aft,They greet... more...

INTRODUCTION Professor Elizabeth Story Donno, in her recent (New York, 1963), has made an important contribution to both scholarship and teaching. Not only has she brought together for the first time in one volume most of the extant Elizabethan minor epics, but in so doing, she has hastened the recognition that the minor epic, or "epyllion" as it has often been called in modern times,[] is a... more...

ENGLAND AND SERBIA. Delivered for the first time in the Chapter House of Canterbury Cathedral. Chairman: the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. THE SIGN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. YOUR GRACE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, To come to Canterbury, to visit this Sion of the Church of England, that has been my dream since my fourteenth year, when I for the first time was told of what a spiritual work and of what an... more...

MICHAEL A PASTORAL POEM   If from the public way you turn your steps  Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,  You will suppose that with an upright path  Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent  The pastoral mountains front you, face to face.  But, courage! for around that boisterous brook  The mountains have all opened out themselves,  And made a hidden valley of their... more...