General Books

THE VOICE THAT SINGS The voice that sings across the night   Of long forgotten days and things,Is there an ear to hear aright   The voice that sings? It is as when a curfew rings   Melodious in the dying light,A sound that flies on pulsing wings. And faded eyes that once were bright   Brim over, as to life it bringsThe echo of a dead delight,   The voice that sings. In vain you fervently... more...

TO NEW YORKFor maid and lad New York is fairy land,Delightful charms in gorgeous brilliant lure!Our youth do struggle on ambition's tour.They meet life's challenge with true heart and hand.Forgotten trails are marked with scar and wand;A blasted rock and broken twigs assureThe traveler that others fought the moor,And sailed the stormy breakers, crossed the sandTo build the city on a granite... more...

PREFACE This little book was written by four friends, three of them under-graduates at Oxford, and all of them penetrated with the spirit of the higher culture of our time. The poems, it is clear, have been carefully selected; and, it is probable, have been diligently polished. There is not one which is not remarkable for delicacy of style and conscious aiming after excellence in art. Whether these... more...

TO MY MOTHERMother, to whose valiant will,Battling long ago,What the heaping years fulfil,Light and song, I owe;Send my little book a-field,Fronting praise or blameWith the shining flag and shieldOf your name.It fell on a day I was happy,And the winds, the concave sky,The flowers and the beasts in the meadowSeemed happy even as I;And I stretched my hands to the meadow,To the bird, the beast, the... more...

THE LOOM OF YEARSIn the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mouldTo colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:Light and scent and... more...

THE COLORS It isn't just colors and bunting—The red and the blue and the white.It's something heaps better and finer,—It's the soul of my country in sight! There's a lot of ceremony 'bout the Flag,Though many half-baked patriots believeSalutin' it and hangin' it correct"Is only loyalty upon the sleeve."But we who work beneath the Flag to-day,Who'll... more...

INTRODUCTION "It is about impossible for a man to get rid of his Puritan grandfathers, and nobody who has ever had one has ever escaped his Puritan grandmother;" so said Eugene Field to me one sweet April day, when we talked together of the things of the spirit. It is one of his own confessions that he was fond of clergymen. Most preachers are supposed to be helplessly tied up with such a set... more...

CANTO I.PRODUCTION OF LIFE. I. By firm immutable immortal lawsImpress'd on Nature by the Great First Cause,Say, Muse! how rose from elemental strifeOrganic forms, and kindled into life;How Love and Sympathy with potent charmWarm the cold heart, the lifted hand disarm;Allure with pleasures, and alarm with pains,And bind Society in golden chains. Four past eventful Ages then recite,And give the... more...

The Voyageur Dere's somet'ing stirrin' ma blood tonight,On de night of de young new year,Wile de camp is warm an' de fire is bright,An' de bottle is close at han'—Out on de reever de nort' win' blow,Down on de valley is pile de snow,But w'at do we care so long we knowWe 're safe on de log cabane? Drink to de healt' of your wife an'... more...

I.  KING VALDEMAR’S WOOING. Valdemar King and Sir Strange bold   At table sat one day,So many a word ’twixt them there passed   In amicable way. “Hear Strange, hear! thou for a time   Thy native land must leave;Thou shalt away to Bohemia far   My young bride to receive.” Then answered Strange Ebbesen,   To answer he was not slow:“Who shall attend me of thy liegemen,   If I to... more...