Poetry Books
Sort by:
by:
Andrew Lang
BED IN SUMMER In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way,— I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people’s feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by...
more...
by:
Anonymous
Near the Sign of the BellLiv'd Jobson and NellAnd cobbling of Shoes was his tradeThey agreed very wellThe neighbors did tellFor he was a funny old blade. But Jobson loved whiskeyWhich made him so friskeyHis noddle when once it got inThat frolick he mustAnd kick up a dustFor his customers cared not a pin. The Parson did sendHis Shoes for to mendTo take him on Sunday to ChurchBut Jobson he sworeHe...
more...
PREFACE "Of making many books there is no end."—Eccles. 12:12. When the above words were written by Solomon, King of Israel, about three thousand years ago, they were possibly inspired by the existence even at that early period of an extensive and probably overweighted literature. The same literary conditions are as true to-day as when the above truism emanated from that most wonderful of all...
more...
by:
John Louis Haney
INTRODUCTION To the modern reader, with an abundance of periodicals of all sorts and upon all subjects at hand, it seems hardly possible that this wealth of ephemeral literature was virtually developed within the past two centuries. It offers such a rational means for the dissemination of the latest scientific and literary news that the mind undeceived by facts would naturally place the origin of the...
more...
by:
Raymond Bentman
INTRODUCTION Evan Lloyd’s works consist chiefly of four satires written in 1766 and 1767, all of which are now little-known. What little notice he receives today results from his friendship with John Wilkes and David Garrick and from one satire, The Methodist, which is usually included in surveys of anti-Methodist literature. For the most part, his obscurity is deserved. In The Methodist, however, he...
more...
1. Origin of the Saga All the Aryan peoples have had their heroic age, the achievements of which form the basis of later saga. For the Germans this was the period of the Migrations, as it is called, in round numbers the two hundred years from 400 to 600, at the close of which we find them settled in those regions which they have, generally speaking, occupied ever since. During these two centuries...
more...
VOICES OF THE NIGHT <Greek poem here—Euripides.> PRELUDE. Pleasant it was, when woods were green, And winds were soft and low,To lie amid some sylvan scene.Where, the long drooping boughs between,Shadows dark and sunlight sheen Alternate come and go; Or where the denser grove receives No sunlight from above,But the dark foliage interweavesIn one unbroken roof of leaves,Underneath whose...
more...
SONG THE FIRST. Up Riber’s street the dance they ply, The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights most merrily, For young King Erik Erikson. On Riber’s bridge the dance it goes, The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights in scollop’d shoes, For young King Erik Erikson. ’Twas Riber Wolf the dance who led, The Castle’s won, the...
more...
by:
Michael Drayton
INTRODUCTION. All civilized nations possessing a history which they contemplate with pride endeavour to present that history in an epic form. In their initial stages of culture the vehicles of expression are ballads like the constituents of the Spanish Romanceros and chronicles like Joinville’s and Froissart’s. With literary refinement comes the distinct literary purpose, and the poet appears who...
more...
O what is this you've done to me,Or what have I done,That bare should be our fair roof-tree,And I all alone?'Tis worse than widow I becomeMore than desolate,To face a worse than empty homeWithout child or mate.'Twas not my strife askt him his lifeWhen it was but begun,Nor mine, I was a new-made wifeAnd now I am none;Nor mine that many a sapless ghostWails in sorrow-fare—But this does...
more...