Poetry Books

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...

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...

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...

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...

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 Rev. Mark J. McNeal, S. J., who was one of the successors of Lafcadio Hearn in the chair of English Literature at the Tokyo Imperial University, in an interesting article recounts the following incident of his experience in that institution. "I was seated on the examining board with Professor Ichikawa, the dean of the English department... There entered the room a student whom I recognized as... more...

YULE TIDE. TheRoyal Birthday dawns again,A stricken world to bless;And sufferers forget their pain,And mourners their distress. Love sings to-day; her eyes so fairWith happy tears are wet;She is too humble to despair,Too faithful to forget. Her voice is very soft and sweet,Her heart is brave and strong;Her vassal, I would fain repeatSome fragments of her song. A Birthday-song my heart would singIts... more...

SPRING NIGHT   THE park is filled with night and fog,     The veils are drawn about the world,  The drowsy lights along the paths     Are dim and pearled.   Gold and gleaming the empty streets,     Gold and gleaming the misty lake,  The mirrored lights like sunken swords,     Glimmer and shake.   Oh, is it not enough to be  Here with this beauty over me?  My throat... more...

THE SONG OF THE FLAG. I.Up with the country's flag!And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,—A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!It is our honour's pledge;It is the token of a truth sublime,A thing to die for, and to wonder at,When, on the shuddering edgeOf some great storm, it waves its woven joy,Which no man shall destroy,In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.Up with the... more...

THE NUTS OF KNOWLEDGEA cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nookWhere door and windows open wide that friendly stars may look.The rabbit shy can patter in, the winds may enter free,Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy.And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air,I think the sacred Hazel Tree is dropping berries thereFrom starry fruitage waved aloft where... more...