Poetry
General Books
Sort by:
by:
Mr. Baskerville
STANDING IN LINEWhen I applied for Plattsburg I stood for hours in lineTo get a piece of paper which they said I had to sign;When I had signed I stood in line (and my, that line was slow!)And asked them what to do with it; they said they didn't know. And when I came to Plattsburg I had to stand in line,To get a Requisition, from five o'clock till nine;I stood in line till night for the...
more...
The ancestry of William Cullen Bryant might have been inferred from the character of his writings, which reflect whatever is best and noblest in the life and thought of New England. It was a tradition that the first Bryant of whom there is any account in the annals of the New World came over in the Mayflower, but the tradition is not authenticated. What is known of this gentleman, Mr. Stephen Bryant,...
more...
by:
Wilfred Owen
Strange Meeting It seemed that out of the battle I escapedDown some profound dull tunnel, long since scoopedThrough granites which Titanic wars had groined.Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and staredWith piteous recognition in fixed eyes,Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.And by his smile, I knew that...
more...
by:
R. C. Lehmann
THE VAGABOND It was deadly cold in Danbury town One terrible night in mid November, A night that the Danbury folk rememberFor the sleety wind that hammered them down,That chilled their faces and chapped their skin, And froze their fingers and bit their feet,And made them ice to the heart within, And spattered and scattered And shattered and batteredTheir shivering bodies...
more...
by:
Rudyard Kipling
THE ROWERS 1902 (When Germany proposed that England should help her in a naval demonstration to collect debts from Venezuela.)The banked oars fell an hundred strong,And backed and threshed and ground,But bitter was the rowers' songAs they brought the war-boat round.They had no heart for the rally and roarThat makes the whale-bath smoke—When the great blades cleave and hold and leaveAs one on the...
more...
THE HIGHER PANTHEISMIN A NUTSHELL One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is:Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this.What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under:If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder.Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt:We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without?Why, and...
more...
THE MAN THAT WAS A GHOSTGold light across the golden coomb;The sun went west with horns of fire;Athwart the sweet, sea-breathing roomThe swallows swooped; the village spireGlowed red against a gleam of broom;While earth its scented secrets told,There, silent, sunset-aureoled,Sat Ioläus, mild and old.In distance large the moving shipsSailed on into the evening skies.He gazed, and saw not. In eclipseHe...
more...
by:
William Bell
INTRODUCTION. Few poems have been more variously designated than Comus. Milton himself describes it simply as “A Mask”; by others it has been criticised and estimated as a lyrical drama, a drama in the epic style, a lyric poem in the form of a play, a phantasy, an allegory, a philosophical poem, a suite of speeches or majestic soliloquies, and even a didactic poem. Such variety in the description...
more...
THE MAN OF UZ. A joyous festival.— The gathering back Of scattered flowrets to the household wreath. Brothers and sisters from their sever'd homes Meeting with ardent smile, to renovate The love that sprang from cradle memories And childhood's sports, and whose perennial stream Still threw fresh crystals o'er the sands of life. —Each bore some treasured picture of the past, Some...
more...
SIGNELIL The Lady her handmaid to questioning took:“Why dost thou so sickly and colourless look?” But sorrow gnaws so sorely! “’Tis little wonder if sickly I’m growing, Malfred my lady!So much am I busied with cutting and sewing.” “Erewhile was thy cheek as the blooming rose red,But now thou art pale, even pale as the dead.” “To conceal the truth longer ’tis vain to essay,My...
more...