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Showing: 21-30 results of 97

The Kings and Queens of England, From the Battle of Hastings or the Norman Conquest, to the Present Reign, Inclusive.   First, William the Norman lays claim to the crown And retains it till death; then follows his son The red headed William, whose life is cut short By a shot from his friend, when hunting for sport. Then Henry his brother takes quiet possession, As Henry the first, of the great English nation. Next Stephen, a... more...

THE KINGDOM OF LOVE In the dawn of the day when the sea and the earth   Reflected the sunrise above,I set forth with a heart full of courage and mirth   To seek for the Kingdom of Love.I asked of a Poet I met on the way   Which cross-road would lead me aright;And he said “Follow me, and ere long you shall see   Its glittering turrets of light.” And soon in the distance a city shone... more...

 Bring the good old bugle, boys, we’ll sing another song,Sing it with the spirit that will start the world along,—Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong,While we were marching through Georgia.Chorus.“Hurrah! hurrah! we bring the Jubilee!Hurrah! hurrah! the flag that makes you free!”So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the seaWhile we were marching through Georgia. How the darkies shouted... more...

PREFACE. The numerous collections of American verse share, I think, one fault in common: they include too much. Whether this has been a bid for popularity, a concession to Philistia, I cannot say; but the fact remains that all anthologies of American poetry are, so far as I know, more or less uncritical. The aim of the present book is different. In no case has a poem been included because it is widely known. The purpose of this compilation is... more...

ADDRESS TO THE FLAG [After the Battle of Gettysburg.] Float in the winds of heaven, O tattered Flag!Emblem of hope to all the misruled world:Thy field of golden stars is rent and red—Dyed in the blood of brothers madly spilledBy brother-hands upon the mother-soil.O fatal Upas of the savage Nile,Transplanted hither—rooted—multiplied—Watered with bitter tears and sending forthThy venom-vapors till the land is mad,Thy day... more...


MEMOIR. Frederick William Thomas was the oldest child of E. S. Thomas and Anna his wife. He was born at Providence Rhode Island, but spent his earlier years at Charleston South Carolina, where Mr. E. S. Thomas resided and edited and published the Charleston City Gazette. While Frederick William was still young, Mr. Thomas removed to Baltimore Maryland, and there his son was educated and brought up to the profession of the law. Being... more...

The Congo A Study of the Negro Race I. Their Basic SavageryFat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,A deep rolling bass.Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,Pounded on the table,Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,Hard as they were able,Boom, boom, BOOM,With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.I could not turn... more...

I think I should scarcely trouble the reader with a special appeal in behalf of this book, if it had not specially appealed to me for reasons apart from the author's race, origin, and condition. The world is too old now, and I find myself too much of its mood, to care for the work of a poet because he is black, because his father and mother were slaves, because he was, before and after he began to write poems, an elevator-boy. These facts would... 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 sloping... more...

LONGFELLOW'S POEMS IN PROSE   he home of the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, during the greater part of his life was in the picturesque town of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and there many of his best known poems were written. The forge of the Village Blacksmith really stood there beneath the shelter of a "spreading chestnut tree," in Cambridge, and when, as the town grew larger, the smithy was removed and the tree cut down, all... more...