Poetry Books

The Long View Some day of days! Some dawningyet to beI shall be clothed with immortality! And, in that day, I shall not greatly careThat Jane spilt candle grease upon thestair. It will not grieve me then, as once it did,That careless hands have chipped myteapot lid. I groan, being burdened. But, in thatglad day,I shall forget vexations of the way. That needs were often great, when meanswere small,Will... more...

The Lord is my rockand my fortress. 2 Sam. XXII 2. Rock of ages cleft for me,Let me hide myself in Thee; Let the water and blood,From thy riven side which flow'd, Be of sin the double cure,Cleanse me from its guilt and power. Not the labors of my handsCan fulfil Thy laws demands; Could my zeal no respite know,Could my tears for ever flow, All for sin could not atone,Thou must save, and Thou alone,... 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...

CANTO XXXII COULD I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suitThat hole of sorrow, o'er which ev'ry rockHis firm abutment rears, then might the veinOf fancy rise full springing: but not mineSuch measures, and with falt'ring awe I touchThe mighty theme; for to describe the depthOf all the universe, is no emprizeTo jest with, and demands a tongue not us'dTo infant babbling.  But let... more...

Pope’s life as a writer falls into three periods, answering fairly enough to the three reigns in which he worked.  Under Queen Anne he was an original poet, but made little money by his verses; under George I. he was chiefly a translator, and made much money by satisfying the French-classical taste with versions of the “Iliad” and “Odyssey.”  Under George I. he also edited Shakespeare, but... more...

Simple Simon met a pieman,Going to the fair.Says Simple Simon to the pieman“Let me taste your ware.” Says the pieman to Simple Simon,“Show me first your penny.”Says Simple Simon to the pieman,“Indeed, I have not any.” Simon Looking for Plums.Simple Simon went to lookIf plums grew on a thistle,He pricked his fingers very much,Which made poor Simon whistle. Simon Fishing.Simple Simon went... more...

I. THE WEST Beyond the moor and the mountain crest—Comrade, look not on the west—The sun is down and drinks awayFrom air and land the lees of day. The long cloud and the single pineSentinel the ending line,And out beyond it, clear and wan,Reach the gulfs of evening on. The son of woman turns his browWest from forty countries now,And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.... more...

PATH FLOWERA red-capsang in Bishop's wood,A lark o'er Golder's lane,As I the April pathway trodBound west for Willesden.At foot each tiny blade grew bigAnd taller stood to hear,And every leaf on every twigWas like a little ear.As I too paused, and both ways triedTo catch the rippling rain,—So still, a hare kept at my sideHis tussock of disdain,—Behind me close I heard a step,A soft... more...

CHAPTER I. Mistress O’Hara lives down by the sea, A skittish and beautiful widow is she; She has black shiny tresses, and curly buff toes, And a heavenly tilt to the tip of her nose! She has three little children, the eldest is four (Nurse says he is naughty enough to be more); The Twins are dear dumplings, and they and their brother Are always in scrapes—Of one kind, or another.   This morning... more...

STILLNESS Invitingly, the sea shines her stars,captive flames within an impatient heartas darkness loads the pleasent isles with coarseness,slow sparks rise over a roaring fire. And strolling beaches near dawnwhen the sand fleas & crabs are seen to flee,one catches upon the imperfect stillnessa song of one - wind with seadrawning nearinward, such stars turnas bonds at lastworked free. The moon, at... more...