Poetry Books

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

VAGABONDIA. Off with the fettersThat chafe and restrain!Off with the chain!Here Art and Letters,Music and wine,And Myrtle and Wanda,The winsome witches,Blithely combine.Here are true riches,Here is Golconda,Here are the Indies,Here we are free—Free as the wind is,Free, as the sea.Free! Houp-la! What have weTo do with the wayOf the Pharisee?We go or we stayAt our own sweet will;We think as we say,And... more...

This work is a continuation of the "Orlando Innamorato" of Matteo Maria Boiardo, which was left unfinished upon the author's death in 1494. It begins more or less at the point where Boiardo left it. This is a brief synopsis of Boiardo's work, omitting most of the numerous digressions and incidental episodes associated with these events: To the court of King Charlemagne comes Angelica... more...

A FOREWORD Children, as well as their interested parents, will eagerly welcome this beautiful edition of the one great nursery classic, just as a worthy edition of Shakespeare is welcomed by discriminating adult readers.But some may ask what there is in these simple melodies, attributed to Mother Goose, which gives them so secure and beloved a place in the home, the school and the public library. Is it... more...

MAURINE PART I.I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:The climbing rose‑tree grew about me there,And checked with shade the sunny porticoWhere, morns like this, I came to read, or sew. I heard the gate click, and a firm quick treadUpon the walk. No need to turn my head;I would... more...

INTRODUCTION.Should you ask me, whence these stories?Whence these legends and traditions,With the odors of the forest,With the dew and damp of meadows,With the curling smoke of wigwams,With the rushing of great rivers,With their frequent repetitions,And their wild reverberations,As of thunder in the mountains?10I should answer, I should tell you,"From the forests and the prairies,From the great... more...