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THE WAYSIDE INN.One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,Across the meadows bare and brown,The windows of the wayside innGleamed red with fire-light through the leavesOf woodbine, hanging from the eavesTheir crimson curtains rent and thin.As ancient is this hostelryAs any in the land may be,Built in the old Colonial day,When men lived in a grander way,With ampler hospitality;A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,Now...
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by:
Susan Coolidge
PRELUDE. Poems are heavenly things, And only souls with wings May reach them where they grow, May pluck and bear below, Feeding the nations thus With food all glorious. Verses are not of these; They bloom on earthly trees, Poised on a low-hung stem, And those may gather them Who cannot fly to where The heavenly gardens are. So I by devious ways Have pulled...
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When Day Is Done When day is done and the night slips down,And I've turned my back on the busy town,And come once more to the welcome gateWhere the roses nod and the children wait,I tell myself as I see them smileThat life is good and its tasks worth while. When day is done and I've come once moreTo my quiet street and the friendly door,Where the Mother reigns and the children playAnd the...
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by:
Henry Van Dyke
LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristaeus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music, Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees. Happy Aristaeus loitered in the garden, wandered in the orchard, Careless and contented,...
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AN OLD HEART How young I am! Ah! heaven, this curse of youth Doth mock me from my mirror with great eyes,And pulsing veins repeat the unwelcome truth, That I must live, though hope within me dies. So young, and yet I have had all of life. Why, men have lived to see a hundred years,Who have not known the rapture, joy, and strife Of my brief youth, its passion and its tears. Oh! what...
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KINDNESS. Kindness soothes the bitter anguish, Kindness wipes the falling tear, Kindness cheers us when we languish, Kindness makes a friend more dear. Kindness turns a pain to pleasure, Kindness softens every woe, Kindness is the greatest treasure, That frail man enjoys below. Then how can I, so frail a being, Hope thy kindness to repay, My great weakness plainly seeing, Seeing plainer every day. Oh,...
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by:
Amy Lowell
Before the Altar Before the Altar, bowed, he standsWith empty hands;Upon it perfumed offerings burnWreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn.Not one of all these has he given,No flame of his has leapt to HeavenFiresouled, vermilion-hearted,Forked, and darted,Consuming what a few spare penceHave cheaply bought, to fling from henceIn idly-asked petition. His sole conditionLove and poverty.And while the...
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GLOUCESTER MOORSA mile behind is Gloucester townWhere the fishing fleets put in,A mile ahead the land dips downAnd the woods and farms begin.Here, where the moors stretch freeIn the high blue afternoon,Are the marching sun and talking sea,And the racing winds that wheel and fleeOn the flying heels of June.Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,Blue is the quaker-maid,The wild geranium holds its...
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by:
Vachel Lindsay
The Congo A Study of the Negro Race I. Their Basic Savagery Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, A deep rolling bass. Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,Pounded on the table,Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,Hard as they were able,Boom, boom, BOOM,With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.THEN I had...
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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...
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