Poetry Books

EDINBURGH: WILLIAM PATERSON LONDON: HENRY SOTHERAN & CO. MDCCCLXXIV. It is necessary to explain that in the present edition of the Ship of Fools, with a view to both philological and bibliographical interests, the text, even to the punctuation, has been printed exactly as it stands in the earlier impression (Pynson's), the authenticity of which Barclay himself thus vouches for in a deprecatory... more...

INTRODUCTION Michael Drayton was born in 1563, at Hartshill, near Atherstone, in Warwickshire, where a cottage, said to have been his, is still shown. He early became a page to Sir Henry Goodere, at Polesworth Hall: his own words give the best picture of his early years here. His education would seem to have been good, but ordinary; and it is very doubtful if he ever went to a university. Besides the... more...

PART I. Marsk Stig he out of the country rode   To win him fame with his good bright sword;At home meantide the King will bide   In hope to lure his heart’s ador’d. The King sends word to the Marshal Stig   That he to the fields of war should fare;Himself will deign at home to remain   And take the charge of his Lady fair. In came the Marshal’s serving man,   And a kirtle of green that... more...

FOREWORD The reader of this booklet is not expected to agree with everything in it. The rhymes express only the impressions made on the writer at the time by the varied incidents and conditions arising out of the great war, and some of them did not apply when circumstances changed. They have been printed as written, however, and, if they serve no other purpose, may at least help us to recall some... more...

THREE HEAVY HUSBANDS I He had a high nose. He looked at one over the collar, so to speak. His regard was very assured, and his speech was that short bundle of monosyllables which the subaltern throws at the orderly. He had never been questioned, and, the precedent being absent, he had never questioned himself. Why should he? We live by question and answer, but we do not know the reply to anything until... more...

A WINTER DAY. The cock, warm roosting 'midst his feather'd dames,Now lifts his beak and snuffs the morning air,Stretches his neck and claps his heavy wings,Gives three hoarse crows, and glad his talk is done;Low, chuckling, turns himself upon the roost,Then nestles down again amongst his mates.The lab'ring hind, who on his bed of straw,Beneath his home-made coverings, coarse, but... more...

FORGOTTEN FACTS AND FANCIESOF AMERICAN HISTORY AS civilization advances there develops in the heart of man a higher appreciation of the past, and the deeds of preceding generations come to be viewed with a calm criticism which denudes those deeds of false splendor and increases the lustre of real accomplishment. Man cannot see into the future and acquire the prescience of coming events which would make... more...

THE DUCKS AND THE FROGS chanced upon a certain day, When cheerful Summer, bright and gay,Had brought once more her gift of flowers,To dress anew her pleasant bowers;When birds and insects on the wingMade all the air with music ring;When sunshine smiled on dell and knoll,Two Ducks set forth to take a stroll.'Twas morning; and each grassy bankOf cooling dew had deeply drank—Each fair young flower... more...

The Sword Singing— The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword Clanging imperious Forth from Time’s battlements His ancient and triumphing Song. In the beginning,Ere God inspired HimselfInto the clay thingThumbed to His image,The vacant, the naked shellSoon to be Man:Thoughtful He pondered it,Prone there and impotent,Fragile, invitingAttack and discomfiture:Then, with a smile—As He heard... more...

The Little New Year One cold morning Maurice awoke from his dreams and sat up in bed and listened. He thought he heard a knock at his window; but though the moon was shining brightly, Jack Frost had been so busily at work that Maurice could not see through the thickly painted panes. So he crept sleepily out of bed, and opened the window, and whispered: "Who is there?" "I am," replied a... more...