Poetry Books

UTUMNAL skies were fair, and blue, And soft and mild the morning breeze; With sails unfurled—a joyous crew— We sought Pacific's tranquil seas, And entered there, a gate that stands, Unbarred to ships of many lands. And as we passed its portal grand, Our hearts were glad, our spirits light, And we rejoiced, and eager scanned The scenes that came before our sight. Near Alcatraz, an island bold,... more...

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... more...

KINDNESS. Kindness soothes the bitter anguish, Kindness wipes the falling tear, Kindness cheers us when we languish, Kindness makes a friend more dear. Kindness turns a pain to pleasure, Kindness softens every woe, Kindness is the greatest treasure, That frail man enjoys below. Then how can I, so frail a being, Hope thy kindness to repay, My great weakness plainly seeing, Seeing plainer every day. Oh,... more...

PILATE'S WIFE'S DREAM. I've quench'd my lamp, I struck it in that startWhich every limb convulsed, I heard it fall—The crash blent with my sleep, I saw departIts light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;Over against my bed, there shone a gleamStrange, faint, and mingling also with my dream. It sank, and I am wrapt in utter gloom;How far is night advanced, and when will... more...

OLD MOTHER HUBBARD AND HER DOG.Old Mother HubbardWent to the cupboard,To give her poor Dog a bone,When she came thereThe cupboard was bare,And so the poor Dog had none. JOHN McLOUGHLIN, Publisher, N. Y.     She went to the Tavern,For white wine and red,When she came backThe Dog stood on his head.She brought him a cakeWhich she bought at the Fair,When she came backThe Dog sat in a chair.     She... more...

Laugh and Play.       Laughand play all the day:Don't you think with meWhen I say that's the wayIf you'd happy be?Maid and lad, if we hadNever time for song,Always sad, never glad,Days would seem so long!Tear and sigh make the skyDark and sad and grey;Never cry—only tryJust to laugh and play.Faces bright make sunlightAll the merry day;Frowns they fright out of sight—So we'll... more...

INTRODUCTION It is at my persuasion that these poems are now published. The earliest of them were read to me in London in 1896, when the writer was seventeen; the later ones were sent to me from India in 1904, when she was twenty-five; and they belong, I think, almost wholly to those two periods. As they seemed to me to have an individual beauty of their own, I thought they ought to be published. The... more...

I.   A fluttering bevy left the gate  With hurried steps, and sped away;  And then a coach with drooping freight,  Wrapped in its film of dusty gray,  Stopped; and the pastor and his mate   Stepped forth, and passed the waiting door,  And closed it on the gazing street.  "Oh Philip!" She could say no more.  "Oh Mildred! You're at home, my sweet,—  The old life... more...

AFTER ALL, WHAT IS POETRY? BY JOHN RAYMOND HOWARD. Considering the immense volume of poetical writing produced, and lost or accumulated, by all nations through the ages, it is of curious interest that no generally accepted definition of the word "Poetry" has ever been made. Of course, all versifiers aim at "poetry"; yet, what is poetry? Many definitions have been attempted. Some of... more...

BAYBERRY CANDLESDear sweet, when dusk comes up the hill,    The fire leaps high with golden prongs;I place along the chimneysill    The tiny candles of my songs. And though unsteadily they burn,    As evening shades from grey to blueLike candles they will surely learn    To shine more clear, for love of you. SECRET LAUGHTER"I had a secret... more...