Poetry Books
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Richard Lovelace
INTRODUCTION. There is scarcely an UN-DRAMATIC writer of the Seventeenth Century, whose poems exhibit so many and such gross corruptions as those of the author of LUCASTA. In the present edition, which is the first attempt to present the productions of a celebrated and elegant poet to the admirers of this class of literature in a readable shape, both the text and the pointing have been amended...
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by:
Various
The Cat-tail Arrow BY CLARA DOTY BATES ittle Sammie made a bow, Well indeed he loved to whittle, Shaped it like the half of O— How he could I scarcely know, For his fingers were so little. As he whittled came a sigh: "If I only had an arrow; Something light enough to fly To the tree-tops or the sky! Then I'd have such fun tomorrow." Then he thought of all the slim Things that grow—the...
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THE THREE CHERRY TREESThere were three cherry trees once,Grew in a garden all shady;And there for delight of so gladsome a sight,Walked a most beautiful lady,Dreamed a most beautiful lady.Birds in those branches did sing,Blackbird and throstle and linnet,But she walking there was by far the most fair—Lovelier than all else within it,Blackbird and throstle and linnet.But blossoms to berries do...
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by:
Robert Burns
INTRODUCTION When a poem is read aloud it is easy to realize that poetry is closely related to music. Like music it awakens vague, mysterious feelings which cannot be expressed in ordinary speech; and the person who fails to catch the subtle melody of a poem gets but little from it even though he understands perfectly the meaning of the words. To illustrate this, put into commonplace prose a passage of...
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by:
Maria J. Moss
TO THE READER. Though cooks are often men of pregnant wit,Through niceness of their subject few have writ.’Tis a sage question, if the art of cooksIs lodg’d by nature or attain’d by books?That man will never frame a noble treat,Whose whole dependence lies in some receipt.Then by pure nature everything is spoil’d,—She knows no more than stew’d, bak’d, roast, and boil’d.When art and...
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Amos and Ann had a poem to learn,A poem to learn one day;But alas! they sighed, and alack! they cried,’Twere better to go and play.Ann was sure ’twas a waste of timeTo bother a child with jingling rhyme.Amos said, “What’s the sense in rhythm—Feet and lines?” He had finished with ’em! They peered at the poem with scowly faces,And yawned and stumbled and lost their places.Then—a breeze...
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by:
Clara M. Beede
MOTHER'S PRAYERFor this new day, our Father, we give thee thanks.Thou hast blessed us with rest for our bodies,The glories of a new day are upon us, a gift from above.Let the light from heaven penetrate our souls,and may this be the best of our lives, we pray.Remember those less fortunate, dear Father,May some messenger of thine bring joy to their hearts today.Forbid we should shirk any duty...
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by:
Abner Cosens
FOREWORD The reader of this booklet is not expected to agree with everything in it. The rhymes express only the impressions made on the writer at the time by the varied incidents and conditions arising out of the great war, and some of them did not apply when circumstances changed. They have been printed as written, however, and, if they serve no other purpose, may at least help us to recall some...
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PART I. Marsk Stig he out of the country rode To win him fame with his good bright sword;At home meantide the King will bide In hope to lure his heart’s ador’d. The King sends word to the Marshal Stig That he to the fields of war should fare;Himself will deign at home to remain And take the charge of his Lady fair. In came the Marshal’s serving man, And a kirtle of green that...
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by:
Eunice Tietjens
Proem Profiles from China The Hand As you sit so, in the firelight, your hand is the color of new bronze.I cannot take my eyes from your hand;In it, as in a microcosm, the vast and shadowy Orient is made visible.Who shall read me your hand? You are a large man, yet it is small and narrow, like the hand of a woman and the paw of a chimpanzee.It is supple and boneless as the hands...
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