Poetry Books

MICHAEL A PASTORAL POEM   If from the public way you turn your steps  Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll,  You will suppose that with an upright path  Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent  The pastoral mountains front you, face to face.  But, courage! for around that boisterous brook  The mountains have all opened out themselves,  And made a hidden valley of their... more...

THE MAN IN THE MOON.THE Man in the MoonCame tumbling down,And asked his way to Norwich;They told him south,And he burnt his mouthWith eating cold pease-porridge.TO market, to market, to buy a fat Pig;Home again, home again, dancing a jig. To market, to market, to buy a fat Hog;Home again, home again, jiggety-jog. THERE WAS A MAN.There was a man, and he had nought,And robbers came to rob him; He crept... more...

England's Fields     England's cliffs are white like milk,      But England's fields are green;    The grey fogs creep across the moors,      But warm suns stand between.  And not so far from London town, beyond the brimming street,  A thousand little summer winds are singing in the wheat.     Red-lipped poppies stand and burn,      The hedges are... more...

RICHARD AND HIS BROTHER.Richard, come and play with me,Underneath the willow tree;Sitting in its peaceful shade,We'll sing the song papa has made,Whilst its drooping branches spread,Stretching far above our head,Sweetly tempering the blazeOf the sun's meridian rays.There the rose and violet blow,The lily with her bell of snow,And the richly scented woodbine,Round about its trunk doth... more...

A FROSTY NIGHT. Mother Alice, dear, what ails you,Dazed and white and shaken?Has the chill night numbed you?Is it fright you have taken? Alice Mother, I am very well,I felt never better,Mother, do not hold me so,Let me write my letter. Mother Sweet, my dear, what ails you? Alice No, but I am well;The night was cold and frosty,There's no more to tell. Mother Ay, the night was frosty,Coldly gaped... more...

Celia was laughing. Hopefully I said: “How shall this beauty that we share, This love, remain aware Beyond our happy breathing of the air? How shall it be fulfilled and perfected?... If you were dead, How then should I be comforted?” But Celia knew instead: “He who finds beauty here, shall find it there.” A halo gathered round her hair. I looked and saw her wisdom bare The living bosom of the... more...

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;   Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,   And both... more...

INTRODUCTION Dr. Johnson, in his "Life of Swift," after citing with approval Delany's character of him, as he describes him to Lord Orrery, proceeds to say: "In the poetical works there is not much upon which the critic can exercise his powers. They are often humorous, almost always light, and have the qualities which recommend such compositions, easiness and gaiety. They are, for the... more...

INTRODUCTION The earliest poem in this volume bears the date 1794, when Lamb was nineteen, the latest 1834, the year of his death; so that it covers an even longer period of his life than Vol. I.—the "Miscellaneous Prose." The chronological order which was strictly observed in that volume has been only partly observed in the following pages—since it seemed better to keep the plays together... more...

THE REG'LAR LARK The Reg'lar Lark's a very gay old Bird;At sunrise often may his voice be heardAs jauntily he wends his homeward way,And trills a fresh and merry roundelay.And some old, wise philosopher has said:Rise with a lark, and with a lark to bed. Although a learned EntomologistMay doubt if Humbugs really do exist,Yet each of us, I'm sure, can truly sayWe've seen a number... more...