Poetry Books

MASTER WILLIE. There was once a little boy called Willie. I never knew his other name, and as he lived far off behind the mountain, we cannot go to inquire. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and there was something in his face that, when you had looked at him, made you feel quite happy and rested, and think of all the things you meant to do by-and-by when you were wiser and stronger. He lived all alone... more...

1. WILLKOMMEN UND ABSCHIED Es schlug mein Herz, geschwind zu Pferde!Es war getan, fast eh' gedacht;Der Abend wiegte schon die Erde,Und an den Bergen hing die Nacht;Schon stand im Nebelkleid die Eiche, 5Ein aufgetürmter Riese, da,Wo Finsternis aus dem GesträucheMit hundert schwarzen Augen sah. Der Mond von einem WolkenhügelSah kläglich aus dem Duft hervor; 10Die Winde schwangen leise... more...

PREFACE. Whatever other excellence may be wanting in the ensuing Poems, they are, with only nine exceptions out of the hundred, strictly Sonnets. Those nine vary only from the rules of the legitimate Sonnet in that they rhime three, instead of four times in the first part. The pause is in them, as in the rest, variously placed through the course of the verses; and thus they bear no more resemblance... more...

PREFACE. Sæmund, son of Sigfus, the reputed collector of the poems bearing his name, which is sometimes also called the Elder, and the Poetic, Edda, was of a highly distinguished family, being descended in a direct line from King Harald Hildetonn. He was born at Oddi, his paternal dwelling in the south of Iceland, between the years 1054 and 1057, or about 50 years after the establishment by law of the... more...

The Deacon’s Masterpiece Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,That was built in such a logical wayIt ran a hundred years to a day,And then, of a sudden, it—ah, but stay,I’ll tell you what happened without delay,Scaring the parson into fits,Frightening people out of their wits,—Have you ever heard of that, I say? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five, Georgius Secundus was then... more...

FOREWORD Songs from a far-away world; a cry from another sphere. To those of us who once experienced the still and pitiless cold, a cry terribly suggestive of the horror-charged gloom, of the icy silence as unbroken as that of unfathomable deeps, of the stern and uncompromising individuality of a disturbed and vengeful North. Yet one is also reminded that, even in the Klondyke, in due season the... more...

THE PECULIAR HISTORY OF THE CHEWING-GUM MAN. WILLIE, an’ Wallie, an’ Huldy Ann,They went an’ built a big CHEWIN’-GUM MAN:It was none o’ your teenty little dots,With pinhole eyes an’ pencil-spots;But this was a terribul big one—well,’T was a’most as high as the Palace Hotel! It took ’em a year to chew the gum!! And Willie he done it all, ’cept someThat Huldy got her ma to chew,By... more...

L'ALLEGRO   HENCE, loathed Melancholy,  …………Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born  In Stygian cave forlorn  …………'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights  unholy!  Find out some uncouth cell,  …………Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,  And the night-raven sings;  …………There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,  As... more...

MY BUNKIE   He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan,  He'd surely come under society's ban,  He's a swearin', fightin' cavalryman,    But—he's my bunkie.   He's weathered the winds of the Western waste.  (You, gentle Christian, would call him debased)  And he's loved at his ease and married in haste,    Has my bunkie.   In a... more...

INTRODUCTION One Spring day in London, long before the invention of freak verse and Freudism, I was standing in front of the Cafe Royal in Regent Street when there emerged from its portals the most famous young writer of the day, the Poet about whose latest work "The Book Bills of Narcissus" all literary London was then talking. Richard Le Gallienne was the first real poet I had ever laid eyes... more...