Poetry Books

BOOK I. THE VISION OF THE KING Before the gods that made the godsHad seen their sunrise pass,The White Horse of the White Horse ValeWas cut out of the grass. Before the gods that made the godsHad drunk at dawn their fill,The White Horse of the White Horse ValeWas hoary on the hill. Age beyond age on British land,Aeons on aeons gone,Was peace and war in western hills,And the White Horse looked on. For... more...

THE RUBAIYAT OF A HUFFY HUSBAND II wake, the Sun does scatter into FlightThe Dreams of Happiness I have each Night,O blessèd Dreams—full of Domestic Bliss,Too soon alas! They're banished with the Light. I'm going to tell in just the Briefest wayThe cause of all my Anguish—if I may—Then one and all will know the Reason whyMy Mien is Solemn, and I am not Gay. IIIOn Christmas day a good... more...

“And hard by doth dwell, in St. Catherine’s cell, Ambrose, the anchorite old and grey.”—The Lay of St. Nicholas. Ambrose the anchorite old and greyLarruped himself in his lonely cell,And many a welt on his pious peltThe scourge evoked as it rose and fell. For hours together the flagellant leatherWent whacketty-whack with his groans of pain;And the lay-brothers said, with a wag of the... more...

DIVIDED. I. An empty sky, a world of heather,  Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;We two among them wading together,  Shaking out honey, treading perfume. Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,  Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,  Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. Flusheth the rise with her purple favor,  Gloweth the cleft with her golden... more...

EROS The sense of the world is short,—Long and various the report,—To love and be beloved;Men and gods have not outlearned it;And, how oft soe'er they've turned it,'Tis not to be improved. Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882] "NOW WHAT IS LOVE" Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?It is that fountain and that wellWhere pleasure and repentance dwell;It is, perhaps, the sauncing... 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...

Preface At the earliest period concerning which we have any accurate information, about the sixth century A. D., Japanese poetry already contained the germ of its later development. The poems of this early date were composed of a first line of five syllables, followed by a second of seven, followed by a third of five, and so on, always ending with a line of seven syllables followed by another of equal... more...

POEMS.The dew is gleaming in the grass,The morning hours are seven,And I am fain to watch you pass,Ye soft white clouds of heaven.Ye stray and gather, part and fold;The wind alone can tame you;I think of what in time of oldThe poets loved to name you.They called you sheep, the sky your sward,A field without a reaper;They called the shining sun your lord,The shepherd wind your keeper.Your sweetest poets... more...

OKLAHOMA. Oklahoma! Oklahoma! Land, O, land of the Fair God, Land where ancient, savage races Through barbarian ages trod! Through thy story fancy traces Facts above what fictions say, Where the world with haste advances,— Born are nations in a day! Where the wigwam stood so lonely, Lordly cities rise in might; Where spread desert wildness only, Fertile farms and homes delight. Thou hast summoned to... more...

NOCTURNE WRITTEN IN AN INDIAN GARDEN'Where ignorance is bliss,'Tis folly to be wise.'The time-gun rolls his nerve-destroying bray;The toiling moon rides slowly o'er the trees;The weary diners cast their cares away,And seek the lawn for coolness and for ease.Now spreads the gathering stillness like a pall,And melancholy silence rules the scene,Save where the bugler sounds his homing... more...