Poetry Books

I Here's where I've planted my garden and here I shall care for love's blossoms— As I am taught by my muse, carefully sort them in plots: Fertile branches, whose product is golden fruit of my lifetime, Set here in happier years, tended with pleasure today. You, stand here at my side, good Priapus—albeit from thieves I've Nothing to fear. Freely pluck, whosoever would eat.... more...

ERMELINE. With lance upraised so haughtily   Sir Thunye rides from Alsey town;On land and main he was, I ween,   A daring knight of high renown. Sir Thunye rides in good green wood,   He fain will chase the nimble hare;And there he meeteth the Dwarf’s daughter,   All with her band of maidens fair. Sir Thunye rides in good green wood,   To chase the nimble hart and hind;And there he meets... more...

INTRODUCTION We remember Samuel Wesley (1662-1735), if at all, as the father of a great religious leader. In his own time he was known to many as a poet and a writer of controversial prose. His poetic career began in 1685 with the publication of Maggots, a collection of juvenile verses on trivial subjects, the preface to which, a frothy concoction, apologizes to the reader because the book is neither... more...

ENTHUSIASM.Oh for the spirit which inspired of oldThe seer's prophetic song—the voice that spakeThrough Israel's warrior king. The strains that burstIn thrilling tones from Zion's heaven-strung harp,Float down the tide of ages, shedding lightOn pagan shores and nations far remote:Eternal as the God they celebrate,Their fame shall last when Time's long race is run,And you refulgent... more...

ENOCH ARDEN.   Long lines of cliff breaking have left a chasm;  And in the chasm are foam and yellow sands;  Beyond, red roofs about a narrow wharf  In cluster; then a moulder'd church; and higher  A long street climbs to one tall-tower'd mill;  And high in heaven behind it a gray down  With Danish barrows; and a hazelwood,  By autumn nutters haunted, flourishes  Green in a... more...

England's Fields     England's cliffs are white like milk,      But England's fields are green;    The grey fogs creep across the moors,      But warm suns stand between.  And not so far from London town, beyond the brimming street,  A thousand little summer winds are singing in the wheat.     Red-lipped poppies stand and burn,      The hedges are... more...

PREFACE. Knowing within myself the manner in which this Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public. What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed accomplished. The two first books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensible are not of... more...

THE GOD AND THE OPALTO THÉOPHILE GAUTIER Gray caught he from the cloud, and green from earth,And from a human breast the fire he drew,And life and death were blended in one dew.A sunbeam golden with the morning's mirth,A wan, salt phantom from the sea, a girthOf silver from the moon, shot colour throughThe soul invisible, until it grewTo fulness, and the Opal Song had birth. And then the god... more...

PRELUDE Night on bleak downs; a high grass-grown trench runs athwart the slope. The earthwork is manned by warriors clad in hides. Two warriors, BRYS and GAST, talking. Gast.This puts a tall heart in me, and a tuneOf great glad blood flowing brave in my flesh,To see thee, after all these moons, returned,My Brys. If there's no rust in thy shoulder-joints,That battle-wrath of thine, and thy good... more...

PROEM And the Angel said:"What hast thou for all thy travail—what dost thou bring with thee outof the dust of the world?" And the man answered:"Behold, I bring one perfect yesterday!" And the Angel questioned:"Hast thou then no to-morrow?Hast thou no hope?" And the man replied:"Who am I that I should hope!Out of all my life I have been granted onesheaf of memory." And... more...