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Preface Robert Burns was born near Ayr, Scotland, 25th of January, 1759. He was the son of William Burnes, or Burness, at the time of the poet's birth a nurseryman on the banks of the Doon in Ayrshire. His father, though always extremely poor, attempted to give his children a fair education, and Robert, who was the eldest, went to school for three years in a neighboring village, and later, for... more...

DIVIDED. I. An empty sky, a world of heather,  Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom;We two among them wading together,  Shaking out honey, treading perfume. Crowds of bees are giddy with clover,  Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,  Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet. Flusheth the rise with her purple favor,  Gloweth the cleft with her golden... more...

ROSAMUND. His blew His winds, and they were scattered. 'One soweth and another reapeth.'                                     Ay,Too true, too true. One soweth—unawareCometh a reaper stealthily while he dreams—Bindeth the golden sheaf, and in his bosomAs 't were between the dewfall and the dawnBears it away. Who other was to blame?Is it I? Is it... more...

PART I. The Arrow and the Song. "The Arrow and the Song," by Longfellow (1807-82), is placed first in this volume out of respect to a little girl of six years who used to love to recite it to me. She knew many poems, but this was her favourite.I shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth, I knew not where;For, so swiftly it flew, the sightCould not follow it in its flight.I breathed a song... more...

THE SPRING. When wintry weather's all a-done, An' brooks do sparkle in the zun, An' nâisy-buildèn rooks do vlee Wi' sticks toward their elem tree; When birds do zing, an' we can zee Upon the boughs the buds o' spring,— Then I'm as happy as a king, A-vield wi' health an' zunsheen. Vor then the cowslip's hangèn flow'r A-wetted in the zunny... more...

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...

PREFACE In homely phrase, this is a sort of "second helping" of a dish that has pleased the taste of thousands. Our first collection of Poems Teachers Ask For was the response to a demand for such a book, and this present volume is the response to a demand for "more." In Book One it was impracticable to use all of the many poems entitled to inclusion on the basis of their being desired.... more...

PREFACE This is not like other collections of religious verse; still less is it a hymnal. The present volume is directed to a very specific and wholly practical end, the production of high personal character; and only those poems which have an immediate bearing in this direction have been admitted. We know of no other book published which has followed this special line. There are fine hymnals,... 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...

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...