Poetry Books

    Morning and eveningMaids heard the goblins cry:"Come buy our orchard fruits,Come buy, come buy:Apples and quinces,Lemons and oranges,Plump unpecked cherries,Melons and raspberries,Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,Swart-headed mulberries,Wild free-born cranberries,Crab-apples, dewberries,Pine-apples, blackberries,Apricots, strawberries;--All ripe togetherIn summer weather,--Morns that pass by,Fair... more...

August 9th, 1825. Oh, thou surpassing beauty! that dost liveShrined in yon silent stream of glorious light!Spirit of harmony! that through the vastAnd cloud-embroidered canopy art spreadingThy wings, that o’er our shadowy earth hang brooding,Like a pale silver haze, betwixt the moonAnd the world’s darker orb: beautiful, hail!Hail to thee! from her midnight throne of ether,Night looks upon the... more...

Strange Meeting It seemed that out of the battle I escapedDown some profound dull tunnel, long since scoopedThrough granites which Titanic wars had groined.Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and staredWith piteous recognition in fixed eyes,Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.And by his smile, I knew that... 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...

SONNET—MY HEART SHALL BE THY GARDEN My heart shall be thy garden.  Come, my own,   Into thy garden; thine be happy hours   Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,From root to crowning petal, thine alone. Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown   Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.   But ah, the birds, the birds!  Who shall build bowersTo keep these thine?  O... more...

THE TRUMPET RISE up, rise up,And, as the trumpet blowingChases the dreams of men,As the dawn glowingThe stars that left unlitThe land and water,Rise up and scatterThe dew that coversThe print of last night's lovers—Scatter it, scatter it! While you are listeningTo the clear horn,Forget, men, everythingOn this earth newborn,Except that it is lovelierThan any mysteries.Open your eyes to the... more...

This book contains the undesigned, but all the more spontaneous and authentic, biography of a very rare spirit. It contains the record of a short life, into which was crowded far more of keen experience and high aspiration—of the thrill of sense and the rapture of soul—than it is given to most men, even of high vitality, to extract from a life of twice the length. Alan Seeger had barely passed his... more...

ANALYSIS OF THE FIRST PART. THE Poem begins with the description of an obscure village, and of the pleasing melancholy which it excites on being revisited after a long absence. This mixed sensation is an effect of the Memory. From an effect we naturally ascend to the cause; and the subject proposed is then unfolded with an investigation of the nature and leading principles of this faculty. It is... more...

PREFACE The poems garnered up in this little volume were written at different periods in the life of the author, dating from her early girlhood up to recent years. They were not written with a view of making a book, each poem being the spontaneous outpouring of a deeply poetic nature and called forth by some experience that claimed her attention. The "Old Man of the Mountain," for instance, was... more...

Gerontion Thou hast nor youth nor ageBut as it were an after dinner sleepDreaming of both. Here I am, an old man in a dry month,Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.I was neither at the hot gatesNor fought in the warm rainNor knee deep in the salt marsh, heaving a cutlass,Bitten by flies, fought.My house is a decayed house,And the jew squats on the window sill, the owner,Spawned in some estaminet... more...