Poetry Books

THE RUINES OF TIME. DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND BEAUTIFULL LADIE, THE LA: MARIE, COUNTESSE OF PEMEBROOKE. Most honourable and bountifull Ladie, there bee long sithens deepe sowed in my brest the seede of most entire love and humble affection unto that most brave knight, your noble brother deceased; which, taking roote, began in his life time somewhat to bud forth, and to shew themselves to him, as... more...

INTRODUCTION Because man is both militant and pacific, he has expressed in literature, as indeed in the other forms of art, his pacific and militant moods. Nor are these moods, of necessity, incompatible. War may become the price of peace, and peace may so decay as inevitably to bring about war. Of the dully unresponsive pacificist and the jingo patriot, quick to anger, the latter no doubt is the more... more...

I. LIFE. POEMS. I. REAL RICHES. 'T is little I could care for pearls  Who own the ample sea;Or brooches, when the Emperor  With rubies pelteth me; Or gold, who am the Prince of Mines;  Or diamonds, when I seeA diadem to fit a dome  Continual crowning me. II. SUPERIORITY TO FATE. Superiority to fate  Is difficult to learn.'T is not conferred by any,  But possible to earn A pittance... more...

A YEAR'S WINDFALLS Who comes dancing over the snow, His soft little feet all bare and rosy? Open the door, though the wild winds blow, Take the child in and make him cosy.Take him in and hold him dear,He is the wonderful glad New Year.Dinah M. Mulock. Marjorie's Almanac Robins in the tree-top,Blossoms in the grass,Green things a-growingEverywhere you pass;Sudden little breezes,Showers of... 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...

The Path to HomeThere's the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry domeThat can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called... more...

I—THE VAGABOND(To an air of Schubert) Give to me the life I love,   Let the lave go by me,Give the jolly heaven above   And the byway nigh me.Bed in the bush with stars to see,   Bread I dip in the river—There’s the life for a man like me,   There’s the life for ever. Let the blow fall soon or late,   Let what will be o’er me;Give the face of earth around   And the road before... more...

INTRODUCTION Sassoon the Man In appearance he is tall, big-boned, loosely built. He is clean-shaven, pale or with a flush; has a heavy jaw, wide mouth with the upper lip slightly protruding and the curve of it very pronounced like that of a shrivelled leaf (as I have noticed is common in many poets). His nose is aquiline, the nostrils being wide and heavily arched. This characteristic and the fullness,... more...

BOOK FIRST. I.h! who can tell how hard it is to climbThe steep, where Fame’s proud temple shines afar!Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublimeHas felt the influence of malignant star,And waged with Fortune an eternal war!Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy’s frown,And Poverty’s unconquerable bar,In life’s low vale remote has pined alone,Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown! II.And... more...

The Bride The little white bride is left aloneWith him, her lord; the guests have gone;The festal hall is dim.No jesting now, nor answering mirth.The hush of sleep falls on the earthAnd leaves her here with him. Why should there be, O little white bride,When the world has left you by his side,A tear to brim your eyes?Some old love-face that comes again,Some old love-moment sweet with painOf passionate... more...