Poetry Books

Too long have Britain’s sons with proud disdainSurvey’d the gay Patrician’s titled train,Their various merit scann’d with eye severe,Nor learn’d to know the peasant from the peer:At length the Gothic ignorance is o’er,And vulgar brows shall scowl on LORDS no more;Commons shall shrink at each ennobled nod,And ev’ry lordling shine a demigod:By CRAVEN taught, the humbler herd shall know,How... more...

TOMMY TATTER.“Oh! Tommy Tatter, Tommy Tatter,Tell me now what is the matter;Tell me, Tommy, do, I pray,What makes you look so sad to-day?”“Oh! Master Peter, Peter Pink,I’ve reason to be sad, I think;Oh! don’t you see my ragged clothes,My naked legs, and naked toes,My head without a hat, to letMy hair be dry in weather wet?Oh! I am cold and hungry, too,I wish I was as rich as you!”“Oh!... more...

CANTO XXII Astounded, to the guardian of my stepsI turn'd me, like the chill, who always runsThither for succour, where he trusteth most,And she was like the mother, who her sonBeholding pale and breathless, with her voiceSoothes him, and he is cheer'd; for thus she spake,Soothing me: "Know'st not thou, thou art in heav'n?And know'st not thou, whatever is in heav'n,Is... 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...

Canto I. Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits,Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth,Come, let us go,—to a land wherein gods of the old time wandered,Where every breath even now changes to ether divine.Come, let us go; though withal a voice whisper, 'The world that we live in,Whithersoever we turn, still is the same narrow crib;'Tis but to prove... more...

Punky Dunk, very sly, with a wink of his eyeStrolled lazily all through the house;To the cellar he went and the morning he spentOn a hunt for a fat little mouse."Over there by the coal," he said, "Mouse has his hole,So I'll sit there beside it and wait.There's a trap with some cheese just as nice as you please,And Mouse soon will come out for that bait."Punky sat by the trap,... more...

SEA GARDEN SEA ROSERose, harsh rose,marred and with stint of petals,meagre flower, thin,sparse of leaf,more preciousthan a wet rosesingle on a stem—you are caught in the drift.Stunted, with small leaf,you are flung on the sand,you are liftedin the crisp sandthat drives in the wind.Can the spice-rosedrip such acrid fragrancehardened in a leaf? O be swift—we have always known you wanted us.We fled... more...

Romance IWhen I go forth to greet the glad-faced Spring,Just at the time of opening apple-buds,When brooks are laughing, winds are whispering,On babbling hillsides or in warbling woods,There is an unseen presence that eludes:—Perhaps a Dryad, in whose tresses clingThe loamy odors of old solitudes,Who, from her beechen doorway, calls; and leadsMy soul to follow; now with dimpling wordsOf leaves; and... more...

"A true poet is one of the most precious gifts that can be bestowed on a generation." He speaks for it and he speaks to it. Reflecting and interpreting his age and its thoughts, feelings, and purposes, he speaks for it; and with a love of truth, with a keener moral insight into the universal heart of man, and with the intuition of inspiration, he speaks to it, and through it to the world. It is... more...

Behind the Arras I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall feel quite at home: I love to roam. Day after day I loiter and explore From door to door; So many treasures lure The curious mind. What histories obscure They must immure! I hardly know which room I care for best; This fronting west, With the strange hills in view, Where the great sun... more...