Poetry Books

The Lord is my rockand my fortress. 2 Sam. XXII 2. Rock of ages cleft for me,Let me hide myself in Thee; Let the water and blood,From thy riven side which flow'd, Be of sin the double cure,Cleanse me from its guilt and power. Not the labors of my handsCan fulfil Thy laws demands; Could my zeal no respite know,Could my tears for ever flow, All for sin could not atone,Thou must save, and Thou alone,... more...

MY "PROMENADE SOLITAIRE" Up and down in my garden fair,Under the trellis where grapes will bloom,With the breath of violets in the air,As pallid Winter for Spring makes room,I walk and ponder, free from care,In my beautiful Promenade Solitaire. Back and forth in the checkered shadeTraced by the lattice that holds the vine,With the glory of snow-capped crests displayedOn the sapphire sky in a... more...

CANTO XXXII COULD I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suitThat hole of sorrow, o'er which ev'ry rockHis firm abutment rears, then might the veinOf fancy rise full springing: but not mineSuch measures, and with falt'ring awe I touchThe mighty theme; for to describe the depthOf all the universe, is no emprizeTo jest with, and demands a tongue not us'dTo infant babbling.  But let... more...

Pope’s life as a writer falls into three periods, answering fairly enough to the three reigns in which he worked.  Under Queen Anne he was an original poet, but made little money by his verses; under George I. he was chiefly a translator, and made much money by satisfying the French-classical taste with versions of the “Iliad” and “Odyssey.”  Under George I. he also edited Shakespeare, but... 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...

I. THE WEST Beyond the moor and the mountain crest—Comrade, look not on the west—The sun is down and drinks awayFrom air and land the lees of day. The long cloud and the single pineSentinel the ending line,And out beyond it, clear and wan,Reach the gulfs of evening on. The son of woman turns his browWest from forty countries now,And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.... more...

CHAPTER I. Mistress O’Hara lives down by the sea, A skittish and beautiful widow is she; She has black shiny tresses, and curly buff toes, And a heavenly tilt to the tip of her nose! She has three little children, the eldest is four (Nurse says he is naughty enough to be more); The Twins are dear dumplings, and they and their brother Are always in scrapes—Of one kind, or another.   This morning... more...

When Day Is Done When day is done and the night slips down,And I've turned my back on the busy town,And come once more to the welcome gateWhere the roses nod and the children wait,I tell myself as I see them smileThat life is good and its tasks worth while. When day is done and I've come once moreTo my quiet street and the friendly door,Where the Mother reigns and the children playAnd the... more...

Men who compare themselves with their nearest neighbours are almost invariably conceited, speak boastingly of themselves, and disrespectfully of others. But if a man extend his survey, if he mingle largely with people whose feelings and opinions have been modified by quite different circumstances, the result is generally beneficial. The very act of accommodating his mind to foreign modes of thought... more...

McLOUGHLIN BRO'S 30 BEEKMAN StThere was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile,And he found a crooked six-pence against a crooked stile;He bought a crooked hat, which caught a crooked mouse,And they all lived together in a little crooked house.Go to bed Tom, go to bed Tom—Merry or sober, go to bed Tom.Little Tommy Grace,Had a pain in his face,So that he could not learn a letter;When in came... more...