Poetry Books

THE FAIRY CHANGELING Dermod O’Byrne of Omah townIn his garden strode up and down;He pulled his beard, and he beat his breast;And this is his trouble and woe confessed: “The good-folk came in the night, and theyHave stolen my bonny wean away;Have put in his place a changeling,A weashy, weakly, wizen thing! “From the speckled hen nine eggs I stole,And lighting a fire of a glowing coal,I fried the... more...

SeeMeBe(kyndeAgayneMy payneReteyne(in myndeMy swete bloodeOn the roodeDyde the good(my broderMy face ryght redMyn armes spredMy woundes bled(thynke none oderBeholde thou my sydeWounded so ryght wydeBledynge sore that tyde(all for thyn owne sakeThus for the I smertedWhy arte þharde hertedBe by me conuerted(& thy swerynge aslakeTere me nowe no moreMy woundes are soreLeue swerynge therfore(and come to... more...

THE CULPRIT FAY. “My visual orbs are purged from film, and lo!   “Instead of Anster’s turnip-bearing vales“I see old fairy land’s miraculous show!   “Her trees of tinsel kissed by freakish gales,“Her Ouphs that, cloaked in leaf-gold, skim the breeze,   “And fairies, swarming—” Tennant’s Anster Fair. I. ’Tis the middle watch of a summer’s night—The earth is dark, but... more...

PURGATORY Cantos 1 - 33 O'er better waves to speed her rapid courseThe light bark of my genius lifts the sail,Well pleas'd to leave so cruel sea behind;And of that second region will I sing,In which the human spirit from sinful blotIs purg'd, and for ascent to Heaven prepares. Here, O ye hallow'd Nine! for in your trainI follow, here the deadened strain revive;Nor let Calliope... more...

INTRODUCTION TO EIDOLON. Hazlitt says, one cannot "make an allegory go on all fours," it must to a certain degree be obscure and shadowy, like the images which the traveller in the desert sees mirrored on the heavens, wherein he can trace but a dreamy resemblance to the reality beneath. It therefore seems to me advisable to give a solution of the "Eidolon," the symbol, which follows,... more...

Fires of Driftwood ON what long tidesDo you drift to my fire,You waifs of strange waters?From what far seas,What murmurous sands,What desolate beaches—Flotsam of those glories that were ships! I gather you,Bitter with salt,Sun-bleached, rock-scarred, moon-harried,Fuel for my fire. You are Pride’s end.Through all to-morrows you are yesterday.You are waste,You are ruin,For where is that which once... more...

IN MEMORIAM: PAULINE JOHNSON I cannot say how deeply it touched me to learn that Pauline Johnson expressed a wish on her death-bed that I, living here in the mother country all these miles away, should write something about her. I was not altogether surprised, however, for her letters to me had long ago shed a golden light upon her peculiar character. She had made herself believe, quite erroneously,... more...

TO MY PEN I Thou feeble implement of mind,Wherewith she strove to scrawl hername;But, like a mitcher, left behindNo signature, no stroke, no claim,No hint that she hath pined— Shall ever come a stronger time,When thou shalt be a tool of skill,And steadfast purpose, to fulfilA higher task than rhyme? II Thou puny instrument of soul,Wherewith she labours to impartHer efforts at some arduous goal;But... more...

Memories II   Places  Old Tunes  "Only in Sleep"  Redbirds  Sunset: St. Louis  The Coin  The Voice III   Day and Night  Compensation  I Remembered  "Oh You Are Coming"  The Return  Gray Eyes  The Net  The Mystery In a Hospital IV   Open Windows  The New Moon  Eight O'Clock  Lost Things  Pain  The Broken Field  The Unseen  A Prayer V... more...

A VISION.vision came! It was not in the hourOf sleep; but when the unresisted powerOf magic Fancy, threw, with full control,Her half prophetic mantle o’er the soul.The place was thron’d like Britain’s royal halls,And her proud navy deck’d the tap’stried walls.Statesmen and heroes grac’d the pictur’d scene;Fathers who were what since their sons have been;And some whose laurell’d brows... more...