Poetry
- American 96
- Ancient, Classical & Medieval 41
- Anthologies (multiple authors) 1
- Asian 15
- Australian & Oceanian 11
- Canadian 11
- Caribbean & Latin American 5
- Children's Poetry & Nursery rhymes 51
- Continental European 11
- English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh 162
- General 483
- Inspirational & Religious 7
- Middle Eastern 3
Poetry Books
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by:
Hilaire Belloc
INTRODUCTIONI callyou bad, my little child,Upon the title page,Because a manner rude and wildIs common at your age. The Moral of this priceless work(If rightly understood)Will make you—from a little Turk—Unnaturally good. Do not as evil children do,Who on the slightest groundsWill imitatethe Kangaroo,With wild unmeaning bounds: Do not as children badly bred,Who eat like little Hogs,And when they...
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Some years ago, while editing Henry C. Whitney's "Life of Lincoln" I showed a photograph of the bust of Lincoln by Johannes Gelert, the most intellectual to my mind of all the studies of his face, to a little Italian shoeblack, and asked him if he knew who it was. The boy, evidently prompted by a recent lesson at school, said questioningly, "Whittier?—Longfellow?" I replied,...
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by:
Walter Crane
GIRLS AND BOYS [Listen] [PDF] [MusicXML] 1. Girls and boys come out to play,The moon doth shine as bright as day;Leave your supper, and leave your sleep;Come to your playfellows in the street; 2. Come with a whoop, and come with a call.Come with a good will or not at all.Up the ladder and down the wall,A penny loaf will serve you all. [Listen] [PDF] [MusicXML] Here we go round the mulberry bush,the...
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THE BOOK OFJOYOUS CHILDREN Bound and bordered in leaf-green, Edged with trellised buds and flowers And glad Summer-gold, with clean White and purple morning-glories Such as suit the songs and stories Of this book of ours, Unrevised in text or scene,— The Book of Joyous Children. Wild and breathless in their glee— Lawless rangers of all ways Winding through lush greenery Of Elysian vales—the viny,...
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by:
Henry Constable
SAMUEL DANIEL Daniel's sonnet series has been by many regarded as the prototype of Shakespeare's. It is true that several of Daniel's themes are repeated in the cycle composed by the greater poet. The ideas of immortality in verse, the transitoriness of beauty, the assurances of truth, the humility and the woes of the lover, the pain of separation and the comfort of night thoughts, shape...
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Geoffrey Chaucer
BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, 1That was the king Priamus sone of Troye,In lovinge, how his aventures fellenFro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye,My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. 5Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyteThise woful vers, that wepen as I wryte! To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment,Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne;Help me, that am the...
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MAX AND MAURICE. PREFACE.Ah, how oft we read or hear ofBoys we almost stand in fear of!For example, take these storiesOf two youths, named Max and Maurice,Who, instead of early turningTheir young minds to useful learning,Often leered with horrid featuresAt their lessons and their teachers.Look now at the empty head: heIs for mischief always ready.Teasing creatures, climbing fences,Stealing apples,...
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CANTO I IN the midway of this our mortal life,I found me in a gloomy wood, astrayGone from the path direct: and e'en to tellIt were no easy task, how savage wildThat forest, how robust and rough its growth,Which to remember only, my dismayRenews, in bitterness not far from death.Yet to discourse of what there good befell,All else will I relate discover'd there.How first I enter'd it I...
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by:
Unknown
PART FIRST. Oene, of all the chilly Arctics, queen,Ascended to her everlasting throneBuilt on the steadfast centre of the world,And waited for the middle hour of night,Now swiftly coming, to convene her court.Set in an ocean of perpetual calmWas the fair island honoured by her reign;Slowly around her rolled the Frigid Zone,Dim in the mystic moonlight far away,—A silvery ring, circling her nearer...
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by:
Charles Dickens
AN INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES DICKENS In the spring of the year 1853, I observed, as conductor of the weekly journal Household Words, a short poem among the proffered contributions, very different, as I thought, from the shoal of verses perpetually setting through the office of such a periodical, and possessing much more merit. Its authoress was quite unknown to me. She was one Miss Mary Berwick, whom...
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