Poetry Books

Nuts Crazy as a cashew.Unbelievably lucky, I keep my job,live alone,lead a lucky life. Always the same old job,17 years of it. Go nowhere.Be nobody.Do nothing. Sheer luxury. They got to me. They drove meoff the deep end. But I’m luckywith my label,and my safe job. Shame I’m nuts.Blissful,lucky,shame. Mind Stew Boil, boil, andon it stews,the broth that cooks,on the stovethat is my mind. Ideas bob... more...

INTRODUCTION. Early in the present century John Harris—one of the successors to the business of "Honest John Newbery," now carried on by Messrs Griffith & Farran at the old corner of St. Paul's Churchyard—began the publication of a series of little books, which for many years were probably among the most famous of the productions of the House. Now, however, according to the fate... more...

THE KING OF THE CASTLE. A S the lion is called the king of beasts, so the eagle is called the king of birds; but except that it is bigger, stronger, and swifter than other birds, there does not seem much reason for the name. It is a mistake to attribute noble or mean qualities to animals or birds, or to think they can do good or bad actions, when they can only do what God has created them to do, and as... more...

'Twas on a frosty Christmas Eve When Peggy Deutchland woke From her wooden sleep On the counter steep And to her neighbour spoke, "Get up! get up, dear Sarah Jane! Now strikes the midnight hour, When dolls and toys Taste human joys, And revel in their power.     I long to try my limbs a bit, And you must walk with me; Our joints are good Though made of wood, And I pine for liberty. For... more...

TEASE I WILL give you all my keys,  You shall be my châtelaine,You shall enter as you please,  As you please shall go again. When I hear you jingling through  All the chambers of my soul,How I sit and laugh at you  In your vain housekeeping rôle. Jealous of the smallest cover,  Angry at the simplest door;Well, you anxious, inquisitive lover,  Are you pleased with what's in store? You... more...

Hannibal. Could a Numidian horseman ride no faster? Marcellus! oh! Marcellus! He moves not—he is dead. Did he not stir his fingers? Stand wide, soldiers—wide, forty paces; give him air; bring water; halt! Gather those broad leaves, and all the rest, growing under the brushwood; unbrace his armour. Loose the helmet first—his breast rises. I fancied his eyes were fixed on me—they have rolled back... more...

OUR generation already is overpast,And thy lov'd legacy, Gerard, hath lainCoy in my home; as once thy heart was fainOf shelter, when God's terror held thee fastIn life's wild wood at Beauty and Sorrow aghast;Thy sainted sense tramme'd in ghostly pain,Thy rare ill-broker'd talent in disdain:Yet love of Christ will win man's love at last.  Hell wars without; but, dear, the... more...

INTRODUCTION I. THE AGE WHICH PRODUCED THE FAERIE QUEENE The study of the Faerie Queene should be preceded by a review of the great age in which it was written. An intimate relation exists between the history of the English nation and the works of English authors. This close connection between purely external events and literary masterpieces is especially marked in a study of the Elizabethan Age. To... 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...

Canto I.Right beautiful is Torksey's hall,Adown by meadowed Trent;Right beautiful that mouldering wall,And remnant of a turret tall,Shorn of its battlement. For, while the children of the SpringBlush into life, and die;And Summer's joy-birds take light wingWhen Autumn mists are nigh;And soon the year—a winterling—With its fall'n leaves doth lie;That ruin gray—Mirror'd,... more...