Poetry Books

The Little New Year One cold morning Maurice awoke from his dreams and sat up in bed and listened. He thought he heard a knock at his window; but though the moon was shining brightly, Jack Frost had been so busily at work that Maurice could not see through the thickly painted panes. So he crept sleepily out of bed, and opened the window, and whispered: "Who is there?" "I am," replied a... more...

THE DUCKS AND THE FROGS chanced upon a certain day, When cheerful Summer, bright and gay,Had brought once more her gift of flowers,To dress anew her pleasant bowers;When birds and insects on the wingMade all the air with music ring;When sunshine smiled on dell and knoll,Two Ducks set forth to take a stroll.'Twas morning; and each grassy bankOf cooling dew had deeply drank—Each fair young flower... more...

In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lie,In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throwThe torch; be yours... more...

A WINTER DAY. The cock, warm roosting 'midst his feather'd dames,Now lifts his beak and snuffs the morning air,Stretches his neck and claps his heavy wings,Gives three hoarse crows, and glad his talk is done;Low, chuckling, turns himself upon the roost,Then nestles down again amongst his mates.The lab'ring hind, who on his bed of straw,Beneath his home-made coverings, coarse, but... more...

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... more...

SERVANT. Have mercy upon your servant, my queen! QUEEN. The assembly is over and my servants are all gone. Whydo you come at this late hour? SERVANT. When you have finished with others, that is my time.I come to ask what remains for your last servant to do. QUEEN. What can you expect when it is too late? SERVANT. Make me the gardener of your flower garden. QUEEN. What folly is this? SERVANT. I will... more...

QUIET WORKOne lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee,One lesson which in every wind is blown,One lesson of two duties kept at oneThough the loud world proclaim their enmity—Of toil unsever'd from tranquillity!Of labour, that in lasting fruit outgrowsFar noisier schemes, accomplish'd in repose,Too great for haste, too high for rivalry!Yes, while on earth a thousand discords ring,Man's... more...

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... more...

THE PILOT’S STORY. I. It was a story the pilot told, with his back to his hearers,–– Keeping his hand on the wheel and his eye on the globe of the jack-staff, Holding the boat to the shore and out of the sweep of the current, Lightly turning aside for the heavy logs of the drift-wood, Widely shunning the snags that made us sardonic obeisance. II. All the soft, damp air was full of delicate... more...

INTRODUCTION Michael Drayton was born in 1563, at Hartshill, near Atherstone, in Warwickshire, where a cottage, said to have been his, is still shown. He early became a page to Sir Henry Goodere, at Polesworth Hall: his own words give the best picture of his early years here. His education would seem to have been good, but ordinary; and it is very doubtful if he ever went to a university. Besides the... more...