Poetry Books

MAZELLI Canto I. I. "Stay, traveller, stay thy weary steed,The sultry hour of noon is near,Of rest thy way-worn limbs have need,Stay, then, and, taste its sweetness here.The mountain path which thou hast spedIs steep, and difficult to tread,And many a farther step 'twill cost,Ere thou wilt find another host;But if thou scorn'st not humble fare,Such as the pilgrim loves to share,—Not... more...

MAY-DAY.   Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring,With sudden passion languishing,Maketh all things softly smile,Painteth pictures mile on mile,Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths,Whence a smokeless incense breathes.Girls are peeling the sweet willow,Poplar white, and Gilead-tree,And troops of boysShouting with whoop and hilloa,And hip, hip three times three.The air is full of whistlings bland;What... more...

MAX AND MAURICE. PREFACE.Ah, how oft we read or hear ofBoys we almost stand in fear of!For example, take these storiesOf two youths, named Max and Maurice,Who, instead of early turningTheir young minds to useful learning,Often leered with horrid featuresAt their lessons and their teachers.Look now at the empty head: heIs for mischief always ready.Teasing creatures, climbing fences,Stealing apples,... 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 A SHORT LIFE OF ARNOLD Matthew Arnold, poet and critic, was born in the village of Laleham,Middlesex County, England, December 24, 1822. He was the son of Dr.Thomas Arnold, best remembered as the great Head Master at Rugby andin later years distinguished also as a historian of Rome, and of MaryPenrose Arnold, a woman of remarkable character and intellect. Devoid of stirring incident, and,... more...

MARSK STIG’S DAUGHTERS Two daughters fair the Marshal had,O grievous was their fate and sad. The eldest she took her sister’s handAnd away they went to Sweden’s land. Home from the Stevn King Byrgye rode;Up to him Marsk Stig’s daughters trode. “What women ye who beset my gate?What brings ye hither at eve so late?” “Daughters of Stig, the Marshal brave,So earnestly thee for help we... more...

PART I. Marsk Stig he out of the country rode   To win him fame with his good bright sword;At home meantide the King will bide   In hope to lure his heart’s ador’d. The King sends word to the Marshal Stig   That he to the fields of war should fare;Himself will deign at home to remain   And take the charge of his Lady fair. In came the Marshal’s serving man,   And a kirtle of green that... more...

SUSAN BLUE. Oh, Susan Blue, How do you do? Please may I go for a walk with you? Where shall we go? Oh, I know— Down in the meadow where the cowslips grow![5] Little Blue Shoes Mustn't go Very far alone, you know Else she'll fall down, Or, lose her way; Fancy—what Would mamma say? Better put her little hand Under sister's wise command. When she's a little older grown Blue Shoes... more...

"ALL'S WELL"IThe illimitable leaping of the sea,The mouthing of his madness to the moon,The seething of his endless sorcery,His prophecy no power can attune,Swept over me as, on the sounding prowOf a great ship that steered into the stars,I stood and felt the awe upon my browOf death and destiny and all that mars.IIThe wind that blew from Cassiopeia castWanly upon my ear a rune that... more...

THE MAN OF UZ. A joyous festival.— The gathering back Of scattered flowrets to the household wreath. Brothers and sisters from their sever'd homes Meeting with ardent smile, to renovate The love that sprang from cradle memories And childhood's sports, and whose perennial stream Still threw fresh crystals o'er the sands of life. —Each bore some treasured picture of the past, Some... more...