Poetry Books

A LITTLE MOUSE THAT BUILTITSELF A HOUSE IN ACHRISTMAS CAKE. A PRETTY story I will tell, Of Nib, a little Mouse, Who took delight, when none where near, To skip about the house. Her little nose could sniff and smell Where all good things were kept, And in the pantry well she knew That mistress Pussy slept. But, notwithstanding, in she crept, And on the shelf she found A Christmas cake, the top of which... more...

BOOK I Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by fate,And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore.Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,And in the doubtful war, before he wonThe Latian realm, and built the destin'd town;His banish'd gods restor'd to rites divine,And settled sure succession in his line,From whence the race of... more...

A DEDICATION TO E.C.B. He was, through boyhood's storm and shower, My best, my nearest friend; We wore one hat, smoked one cigar, One standing at each end. We were two hearts with single hope, Two faces in one hood; I knew the secrets of his youth; I watched his every mood. The little things that none but I Saw were beyond his wont, The streaming hair, the tie behind, The coat tails worn in front.... more...

INTRODUCTION. In presenting to the public the following translations of the Old English (Anglo-Saxon) poems, Elene, Judith, Athelstan, Byrhtnoth, and The Dream of the Rood, it is desirable to prefix a brief account of them for the information of the general reader. I. The Elene, or Helena, is a poem on the expedition of the Empress Helena, mother of Constantine the Great, the first Christian emperor,... more...

THE BROTHER AVENGED I stood before my master’s board,   The skinker’s office plying;The herald-men brought tidings then   That my brother was murdered lying. I followed my lord unto his bed,   By his dearest down he laid him;Then my courser out of the stall I led,   And with saddle and bit arrayed him. I sprang upon my courser’s back,   With the spur began to goad him;And ere I drew his... more...

GENERAL INTRODUCTION B OOKS are as much a part of the furnishing of a house as tables and chairs, and in the making of a home they belong, not with the luxuries but with the necessities. A bookless house is not a home; for a home affords food and shelter for the mind as well as for the body. It is as great an offence against a child to starve his mind as to starve his body, and there is as much danger... more...

HYMEN As from a temple service, tall and dignified, with slow pace, each a queen, the sixteen matrons from the temple of Hera pass before the curtain—a dark purple hung between Ionic columns—of the porch or open hall of a palace. Their hair is bound as the marble hair of the temple Hera. Each wears a crown or diadem of gold. They sing—the music is temple music, deep, simple, chanting notes:From... more...

PATH FLOWERA red-capsang in Bishop's wood,A lark o'er Golder's lane,As I the April pathway trodBound west for Willesden.At foot each tiny blade grew bigAnd taller stood to hear,And every leaf on every twigWas like a little ear.As I too paused, and both ways triedTo catch the rippling rain,—So still, a hare kept at my sideHis tussock of disdain,—Behind me close I heard a step,A soft... more...

INTRODUCTION Of the making of books by individual authors there is no end; but a cultivated literary taste among the exceptional few has rendered almost impossible the production of genuine folk-songs. The spectacle, therefore, of a homogeneous throng of partly civilized people dancing to the music of crude instruments and evolving out of dance-rhythm a lyrical or narrative utterance in poetic form is... more...

THE RAVEN.Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."'T is some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—Only this, and nothing more."Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the... more...