Poetry Books

Mr. Editor:—Your correspondent, N.B.S., has so decisively given a quietus to the question as to the birthplace of Cotton Mather, that there is no danger of its ever being revived again. But there is another question of equal importance to many, to the literary world in particular, which should in like manner be put to rest. Who was Mother Goose? and when were her melodies first given to the world?... more...

The editor of the new edition of Mother Goose's Melodies knows much more about the curious history of the Boston edition than I do. And the reader will not need, even in these lines of mine, any light on the curious question about Madam Vergoose, or her son-in-law Mr. Fleet, or the Contes de Ma Mere l'Oye, which are so carefully discussed in the preface. All this is admirably discussed also... more...

COME LASSES AND LADS Come Lasses and Lads, get leave of your Dads, And away to the May-pole hey: For every heHas got him a she,with a minstrel standing by. For Willy has gotten his Jill,And Johnny has got his Jone,To jigg it, jigg it, jigg it, jigg it,Jigg it up and down. "Strike up," says Watt; "Agreed," says Kate,"And I prithee, Fiddler, play;""Content," says Hodge,... more...

To One Who Sleeps (Obiit, June 8th, 1894.) Tho' storm and summer shine for long have shedOr blight or bloom above thy quiet bed,Tho' loneliness and longing cry thee dead—Thou art not dead, belovèd. Still with meAre whilom hopings that encompass theeAnd dreams of dear delights that may not be.Asleep—adream perchance, dost thou forgetThe sometime sorrow and the fevered fret,Sting of salt... more...

The Path to HomeThere's the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry domeThat can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called... more...

THICK-SPRINKLED BUNTINGThick-sprinkled bunting! flag of stars!Long yet your road, fateful flag—long yet your road, and lined with bloody death,For the prize I see at issue at last is the world,All its ships and shores I see interwoven with your threads greedy banner;Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne, to flaunt unrival'd?O hasten flag of man—O with sure and steady step,... more...

TheButterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s FeastsExcited the spleen of the Birds and the Beasts:For their mirth and good cheer—of the Bee was the theme,And the Gnat blew his horn, as he danc’d in the beam.’Twas humm’d by the Beetle, ’twas buzz’d by the Fly,And sung by the myriads that sport through the sky.The Quadrupeds listen’d with sullen displeasure,But the tenants of air were... more...

TheButterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s FeastsExcited the spleen of the Birds and the Beasts:For their mirth and good cheer—of the Bee was the theme,And the Gnat blew his horn, as he danced in the beam;’Twas humm’d by the Beetle, ’twas buzz’d by the Fly,And sung by the myriads that sport through the sky.The Quadrupeds listen’d with sullen displeasure,But the tenants of Air were enraged... more...

YE votaries of Fashion, who have it to boast,That your names to posterity will not be lost;That the lastdue honor paidTo the still-blooming Dowager’s gay Masquerade;That the Minister’s Dinner has blaz’d in,That the Countess’s Gala has jingled in rhymes;Oh! tell me, who would not endeavour to please,And exert ev’ry nerve, for rewards such as these?[p6]It was early in Spring—but no matter what... more...

I Pearl that the Prince full well might prize,So surely set in shining gold!No pearl of Orient with her vies;To prove her peerless I make bold:So round, so radiant to mine eyes,smooth she seemed, so small to hold,Among all jewels judges wiseWould count her best an hundred fold.Alas! I lost my pearl of old!I pine with heart-pain unforgot;Down through my arbour grass it rolled,My own pearl, precious,... more...