Poetry Books

THE RED FLOWER June 1914 In the pleasant time of Pentecost,  By the little river Kyll,I followed the angler's winding path  Or waded the stream at will.And the friendly fertile German land  Lay round me green and still. But all day long on the eastern bank  Of the river cool and clear,Where the curving track of the double rails  Was hardly seen though near,The endless trains of German... more...

CHAPTER I. Before I commence mi short history o’ Haworth Railway, it might be as weel to say a word or two abaat Haworth itseln.  It’s a city at’s little nawn, if onny, in th’ history o’ Ingland, tho thare’s no daat but it’s as oud as Methuslam, if net ouder, yet wi’ being built so far aat o’ th’ latitude o’ civilised nashuns, nobody’s scarcely nawn owt abaat it wal lately. ... more...

The Maid of Tamalpais. This she told me in the firelightAs I sat beside her campfire,In a grove of giant redwoods,On the slope of Tamalpais. Old she was, and bent and wrinkled,Lone survivor of the Tamals,Ancient tribe of Indian people,Who have left their name and legendOn the mountain they held sacred.On the ground she sat and brooded,With a blanket wrapped around her—Sat and gazed into the... more...

As theEmperor Mothsat one evening in May,Fanned by numberless wings in the moon’s silver ray,[p6]While around him the zephyrs breathed sweetest perfume,Thus he spoke to his dwarf with theRagged white plume:“That vain Butterfly’s Ball, I hear, was most splendid,And, as the world says, very fully attended,Though she never asked us, but assigned as a cause,We were all much too heavy to gallope and... more...

INTRODUCTION 'A Lover's Diary' has not the same modest history as 'Embers'. As far back as 1894 it was given to the public without any apology or excuse, but I have been apologising for it ever since, in one way—without avail. I wished that at least one-fifth of it had not been published; but my apology was never heard till now as I withdraw from this edition of A... more...

The Hill People.Their steps are light and exceedingly fleet:They pass me by in the hurrying street.I pause to look at a window’s show—From the white-flecked alp the hill winds blow—And all at once it has passed me there,Lilting back to the land of the air,Back to the land of the great white stills:Is it only the wind that comes down from the hills?———Was it Pikes Peak Pixie or Cheyenne... more...

The Pasture I'M going out to clean the pasture spring;I'll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.I'm going out to fetch the little calfThat's standing by the mother. It's so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too. SOMETHING there is... more...

JANUARYNow Time the harvester surveysHis sorry crops of yesterdays;Of trampled hopes and reaped regrets,And for another harvest whetsHis ancient scythe, eying the whileThe budding year with cynic smile.Well, let him smile; in snug retreatI fill my pipe with honeyed sweet,Whose incense wafted from the bowlShall make warm sunshine in my soul,And conjure mid the fragrant hazeFair memories of other... more...

"Pray, what would you like?" said a Toyman, one day,Addressing a group of young folks,"I have toys in abundance, and very cheap, too,Though not quite so cheap as my jokes."Here's a famous managerie, full of wild beasts;See! this lion with wide open jaws,Enough to affright one, and yet I've no doubt,You might venture to play with his claws."Here's a tiger as tame as a... more...

THE THUNDERBOLT. There is an artless tradition among the Indians, related by Irving, of a warrior who saw the thunderbolt lying upon the ground, with a beautifully wrought moccasin on each side of it. Thinking he had found a prize, he put on the moccasins, but they bore him away to the land of spirits, whence he never returned.Loud pealed the thunderFrom arsenal high,Bright flashed the lightningAthwart... more...