Poetry Books

THE BURIAL OF COCK ROBIN. Here lies Cock Robin,Dead and cold;This book his endWill soon unfold. Who kill'd Cock Robin?I, said the Sparrow,With my bow and arrow,And I kill'd Cock Robin. This is the Sparrow,With his bow and arrow. Who saw him die?I, said the fly,With my little eye,And I saw him die. This is the Fly,With his little eye. Who caught his blood?I, said the Fish,With my little... more...

Queen Summeror the Tourneyof the Lily & the Rosepenned & portrayedby Walter Crane When Summer on the earth was queenShe held her court in gardens greenFair hung with tapestry of leaves,Where threads of gold the sun enweavesWith checquered patterns on the floorOf velvet lawns the scythe smoothes o’er:Their waving fans the soft winds spreadEach way to cool Queen Summer’s head:The woodland... more...

CLAIR DE LUNE. Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,That play on lutes and dance and have an airOf being sad in their fantastic trim. The while they celebrate in minor strainTriumphant love, effective enterprise,They have an air of knowing all is vain,—And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise, The melancholy moonlight, sweet and lone,That makes to... more...

Since the publication of Edward Fitzgerald's classic translation of the Rubaiyat in 1851 - or rather since its general popularity several years later - poets minor and major have been rendering the sincerest form of flattery to the genius of the Irishman who brought Persia into the best regulated families. Unfortunately there was only one Omar and there were scores of imitators who, in order to... more...

CANTO V FROM the first circle I descended thusDown to the second, which, a lesser spaceEmbracing, so much more of grief containsProvoking bitter moans.  There, Minos standsGrinning with ghastly feature: he, of allWho enter, strict examining the crimes, Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,According as he foldeth him around:For when before him comes th' ill fated soul,It all confesses; and... more...

The BABES IN THE WOOD.Now ponder well, you parents deare,These wordes which I shall write;A doleful story you shall heare,In time brought forth to light.A gentleman of good accountIn Norfolke dwelt of late.Who did in honour far surmountMost men of his estate.Sore sicke he was, and like to dye,No helpe his life could save;His wife by him as sicke did lye,And both possest one grave.No love between these... more...

Warning to the Public THE LOVING BALLAD OF LORD BATEMAN. In some collection of old English Ballads there is an ancient ditty which I am told bears some remote and distant resemblance to the following Epic Poem. I beg to quote the emphatic language of my estimable friend (if he will allow me to call him so), the Black Bear in Piccadilly, and to assure all to whom these presents may come, that "I am... more...

SMALL MEANS AND GREAT ENDS; OR, THE WIDOW'S POT OF OIL. BY JULIA A. FLETCHER. "Oh! how I do wish I was rich!" said Eliza Melvyn, dropping her work in her lap, and looking up discontentedly to her mother; "why should not I be rich as well as Clara Payson? There she passes in her father's carriage, with her fine clothes, and haughty ways; while I sit here—sew—sewing—all day... more...

THE LAW OF THE YUKONThisis the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane.Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore;Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.Send me the... more...

ADDRESS TO THE FLAG [After the Battle of Gettysburg.]Float in the winds of heaven, O tattered Flag!Emblem of hope to all the misruled world:Thy field of golden stars is rent and red—Dyed in the blood of brothers madly spilledBy brother-hands upon the mother-soil.O fatal Upas of the savage Nile,Transplanted hither—rooted—multiplied—Watered with bitter tears and sending forthThy venom-vapors till... more...