General Books

WHO'S THERE?Nowell, nowell, nowell, nowell,Who ys there that syngith so, nowell, nowell, nowell?I am here, syre Christmasse!Well come, my lord syre Christmasse,Welcome to us all, bothe more and lesse,Come nere, nowell!Dieu vous garde, beau syre, tydinges you bryng:A mayd hath born a chylde full yong,The weche causeth yew for to syng,Nowell!Criste is now born of a pure mayde,In an oxe stalle he ys... more...

The Cat-tail Arrow BY CLARA DOTY BATES ittle Sammie made a bow, Well indeed he loved to whittle, Shaped it like the half of O— How he could I scarcely know, For his fingers were so little. As he whittled came a sigh: "If I only had an arrow; Something light enough to fly To the tree-tops or the sky! Then I'd have such fun tomorrow." Then he thought of all the slim Things that grow—the... more...

FANTASIES.   Altruism: A Legend of Old Persia. In the flowery land of Persia Long ago, as poets tell, Where three rivers met together Did a happy people dwell. Never did these happy people Suffer sickness, plague, or dearth, Living in a golden climate In the fairest place on earth, Living thus thro' endless summers And half-summers hardly colder, Growing, tho' they hardly guessed it, Very... more...

XXXIV O, take to your fancy a sculptor whose fresh marble offspringappearsBefore him, shiningly perfect, the laurel-crown'd issue of years:Is heaven offended? for lightning behold from its bosom escape,And those are mocking fragments that made the harmonious shape!He cannot love the ruins, till, feeling that ruins aloneAre left, he loves them threefold. So passed the old grandfather'smoan.... more...

Justinian at WindermereWetook a hundredweight of booksTo Windermere between us,Our dons had blessed our studious looks,Had they by chance but seen us.Maine, Blackstone, Sandars, all were there,And Hallam'sMiddle Ages,And Austin with his style so rare,And Poste's enticing pages.We started well: the little innWas deadly dull and quiet,As dull as Mrs. Wood'sEast Lynne,Or as the verse of... more...

MY BUNKIE   He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan,  He'd surely come under society's ban,  He's a swearin', fightin' cavalryman,    But—he's my bunkie.   He's weathered the winds of the Western waste.  (You, gentle Christian, would call him debased)  And he's loved at his ease and married in haste,    Has my bunkie.   In a... more...

L'ALLEGRO   HENCE, loathed Melancholy,  …………Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born  In Stygian cave forlorn  …………'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights  unholy!  Find out some uncouth cell,  …………Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,  And the night-raven sings;  …………There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,  As... more...

FOREWORD Songs from a far-away world; a cry from another sphere. To those of us who once experienced the still and pitiless cold, a cry terribly suggestive of the horror-charged gloom, of the icy silence as unbroken as that of unfathomable deeps, of the stern and uncompromising individuality of a disturbed and vengeful North. Yet one is also reminded that, even in the Klondyke, in due season the... more...

COUPLETS If the grass grow in Janiveer,’Twill be the worse for't all the year. If Janiveer calends be summerly gay,’Twill be wintry weather till the calends of May. Winter thunder, and summer flood,Bode England no good. A bushel of March dust is a thingWorth the ransom of a king. A cold AprilIs the poor man’s fill. A wet Good Friday and Easter DayBrings plenty of grass, but little good hay.... more...

BEARPAWS NATHAN ZEBRATAIL There was once a boy named Nathan Green.He was never rude and never mean.But everyone was scared of him,Nancy, Dennis, Tom and Tim. Nick and Susan, Mike and James,Never let him play their games.He knew why, but didn’t say.His mom said he was born that way. Nathan’s hands aren’t hands at all.They’re bigger than a basketball.They’re covered brown by furry hair,Just... more...