Poetry Books

ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY.This is the month, and this the happy morn,Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King,Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,Our great redemption from above did bring;For so the holy sages once did sing,That he our deadly forfeit should release,And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.That glorious form, that light insufferable,And that far-beaming blaze... more...

Homer's "Iliad" begins towards the close of the last of the ten years of the Trojan War: its incidents extend over some fifty days only, and it ends with the burial of Hector. The things which came before and after were told by other bards, who between them narrated the whole "cycle" of the events of the war, and so were called the Cyclic Poets. Of their works none have survived;... more...

CANTO XV True love, that ever shows itself as clearIn kindness, as loose appetite in wrong,Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still'dThe sacred chords, that are by heav'n's right handUnwound and tighten'd, flow to righteous prayersShould they not hearken, who, to give me willFor praying, in accordance thus were mute?He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief,Who, for the love of... more...

POEMS OF NATURE The world is too much with us; late and soon,Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:Little we see in Nature that is ours;We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!This sea that bares her bosom to the moon,The winds that will be howling at all hours,And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;For this, for everything, we are out of tune;It moves us not.—Great God! I'd... more...

BABY TORTOISE You know what it is to be born alone,Baby tortoise!The first day to heave your feet little by littlefrom the shell,Not yet awake,And remain lapsed on earth,Not quite alive. A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean. To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as ifit would never open,Like some iron door;To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower baseAnd reach your skinny little neckAnd take your... more...

ADDRESSED TO THE CRITIC.      Critics of art, connoisseurs of fair Fame,Who on her bulwarks stand, to guard the wayUnto the courts wherein her favored dwell,Where they have gained admittance by the pass“True merit,” which alone can bring them there;Thine is the power the unworthy to debar,To tell them that they are unfit to comeTo seek a standing near her honored throne.Away in sorrow the... more...

PART THE FIRST. I     IN the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,  Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pré  Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,  Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.  Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,  Shut out the turbulent tides; but at... more...

TO THE LITTLE COUSINS ANNIE, KITTY, AND CORDELIA I dedicate this book to you, my dearest dears, with more love than I have ink to write out, and more good wishes and fond hopes than any printer would care to print. You will see by these stories that the children of different countries are pretty much alike. I doubt not, if you were in France now, you would get along nicely with the little Monsieurs and... more...

THE COD-FISHER Where leap the long Atlantic swellsIn foam-streaked stretch of hill and dale,Where shrill the north-wind demon yells,And flings the spindrift down the gale;Where, beaten 'gainst the bending mast,The frozen raindrop clings and cleaves,With steadfast front for calm or blastHis battered schooner rocks and heaves. To same the gain, to some the loss,To each the chance, the risk, the... more...

I.  KING VALDEMAR’S WOOING. Valdemar King and Sir Strange bold   At table sat one day,So many a word ’twixt them there passed   In amicable way. “Hear Strange, hear! thou for a time   Thy native land must leave;Thou shalt away to Bohemia far   My young bride to receive.” Then answered Strange Ebbesen,   To answer he was not slow:“Who shall attend me of thy liegemen,   If I to... more...