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Showing: 41-50 results of 162

KING HACON’S DEATH And now has happened in our day   What was in ancient time foretold:Beneath his hand all Norroway’s land   Has Hacon brought, the wise and bold. Full many a warrior summons he   From all the country far and near;To Scotland’s realm, with shield and helm,   Across the sea the King will steer. As many as sword and helm can bear   With him must sail across the... more...

Part 1 Upon a time, before the faery broodsDrove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,Before King Oberon's bright diadem,Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,Frighted away the Dryads and the FaunsFrom rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,The ever-smitten Hermes empty leftHis golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:From high Olympus had he stolen light,On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sightOf his great summoner,... more...

I. THE WEST Beyond the moor and the mountain crest—Comrade, look not on the west—The sun is down and drinks awayFrom air and land the lees of day.The long cloud and the single pineSentinel the ending line,And out beyond it, clear and wan,Reach the gulfs of evening on.The son of woman turns his browWest from forty countries now,And, as the edge of heaven he eyes,Thinks eternal thoughts, and sighs.Oh wide's the world, to rest or... more...

AN INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES DICKENS In the spring of the year 1853, I observed, as conductor of the weekly journal Household Words, a short poem among the proffered contributions, very different, as I thought, from the shoal of verses perpetually setting through the office of such a periodical, and possessing much more merit.  Its authoress was quite unknown to me.  She was one Miss Mary Berwick, whom I had never heard of; and she was... more...

VERSE: A LEGEND OF PROVENCE The lights extinguished, by the hearth I leant,Half weary with a listless discontent.The flickering giant-shadows, gathering near,Closed round me with a dim and silent fear.All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame,Glancing, lit up a Picture’s ancient frame.Above the hearth it hung.  Perhaps the night,My foolish tremors, or the gleaming light,Lent power to that Portrait dark and quaint—A... more...


LITTLE ENGEL. It was the little Engel, he   So handsome was and gay;To Upland rode he on a tide   And bore a maid away. In ill hour he to Upland rode   And made a maid his prize;The first night they together lay   Was down by Vesteryse. It was the little Engel he   Awoke at black midnight,And straight begins his dream to state   In terror and affright. “Methought the wolf-whelp... more...

INTRODUCTION The father of Frederick Locker Lampson (or Frederick Locker, according to the name by which he is generally known) was Edward Hawke Locker, at one time Commissioner of Greenwich Hospital.  He is described in the “Dictionary of National Biography” as “a man of varied talents and accomplishments, Fellow of the Royal Society, an excellent artist in water-colour, a charming conversationalist, an esteemed friend of... more...

One foot up and one foot downAnd that's the way to— [02]   [03] COME CHILDREN ALL, BOTH GREAT AND SMALL,WITH EAGER EYE AND EAR,WHO DWELL AFAR OR NEARIN HOPE THAT SOME DAY YOU'LL CONTRIVETO VIEW GREAT LONDON'S BUSY HIVE,AND HEAR THE MIGHTY HUM OF BEESAT WORK ALIKE IN SUN OR SHOWER,WHILE BUTTERFLIES BENEATH THE TREESFLIT IDLY BY FROM FLOWER TO FLOWERIN PARKS AND GARDENS BRIGHT AND... more...

HART-LEAP WELL Hart-Leap Well is a small spring of water, about five miles from Richmond in Yorkshire, and near the side of the road which leads from Richmond to Askrigg. Its name is derived from a remarkable chase, the memory of which is preserved by the monuments spoken of in the second Part of the following Poem, which monuments do now exist as I have there described them.   The Knight had ridden down from Wensley... more...

PREFACE. The First Volume of these Poems has already been submitted to general perusal. It was published, as an experiment which, I hoped, might be of some use to ascertain, how far, by fitting to metrical arrangement a selection of the real language of men in a state of vivid sensation, that sort of pleasure and that quantity of pleasure may be imparted, which a Poet may rationally endeavour to impart. I had formed no very inaccurate estimate... more...