Poetry Books

1. ALL THAT'S PAST   Very old are the woods;    And the buds that break  Out of the briar's boughs,    When March winds wake,  So old with their beauty are—    Oh, no man knows  Through what wild centuries    Roves back the rose.   Very old are the brooks;    And the rills that rise  Where snow sleeps cold beneath    The azure skies  Sing such a... more...

On the night of the rains,water was oozing out fromthe sky's swollen stitches,a rash developed acrossthe meaning of the heavens. The wooden floors of my attic placestrove for a deeper tone,a hoarse callinggrew louder as I pacedtrying to see rain. I followed the gravity of the treasure huntwhere each bounce meant a slapacross a table top of tension,where the window basted winter black rainand... more...

CHAPTER FIRST. ABOUT A YOUNG ENGLISH MUSICIAN, AND HOW HE CAME TO SPEND THE WINTER AT MOUNT CARMEL. great many turtle-doves lived about Mount Carmel, and there were orange-trees and cypresses there, and among these the doves lived all the winter. They had broods early in the year, and towards the end of March, or the beginning of April, they set off like great gentlefolks, to spend "the season"... more...

POEMS OF THE THIRD PERIOD. THE MEETING. I see her still—by her fair train surrounded,The fairest of them all, she took her place;Afar I stood, by her bright charms confounded,For, oh! they dazzled with their heavenly grace.With awe my soul was filled—with bliss unbounded,While gazing on her softly radiant face;But soon, as if up-borne on wings of fire,My fingers 'gan to sweep the sounding... more...

MARSK STIG’S DAUGHTERS Two daughters fair the Marshal had,O grievous was their fate and sad. The eldest she took her sister’s handAnd away they went to Sweden’s land. Home from the Stevn King Byrgye rode;Up to him Marsk Stig’s daughters trode. “What women ye who beset my gate?What brings ye hither at eve so late?” “Daughters of Stig, the Marshal brave,So earnestly thee for help we... more...

Good people all, of every sort,Give ear unto my song;And if you find it wondrous short,It cannot hold you long.In Islington there lived a man,Of whom the world might say,That still a godly race he ran,Whene'er he wentto pray.A kind and gentle heart he had,To comfort friends and foes;The naked every day he clad,When he put onhis clothesAnd in that town a dog was found:As many dogs there be—Both... more...

Canto I. Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits,Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth,Come, let us go,—to a land wherein gods of the old time wandered,Where every breath even now changes to ether divine.Come, let us go; though withal a voice whisper, 'The world that we live in,Whithersoever we turn, still is the same narrow crib;'Tis but to prove... more...

THICK-SPRINKLED BUNTINGThick-sprinkled bunting! flag of stars!Long yet your road, fateful flag—long yet your road, and lined with bloody death,For the prize I see at issue at last is the world,All its ships and shores I see interwoven with your threads greedy banner;Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne, to flaunt unrival'd?O hasten flag of man—O with sure and steady step,... more...

The true story of the life of Michael Drayton might be told to, vindicate the poetic traditions of the olden time. A child-poet wandering in fay-haunted Arden, or listening to the harper that frequented the fireside of Polesworth Hall where the boy was a petted page, later the honoured almoner of the bounty of many patrons, one who "not unworthily," as Tofte said, "beareth the name of the... more...

PART I THE TREASON OF GANELON SARAGOSSA. THE COUNCIL OF KING MARSIL IThe king our Emperor Carlemaine,Hath been for seven full years in Spain.From highland to sea hath he won the land;City was none might his arm withstand;Keep and castle alike went down--Save Saragossa, the mountain town.The King Marsilius holds the place,Who loveth not God, nor seeks His grace:He prays to Apollin, and serves... more...