General Books

FLYING KITESA blustering windy day's just rightFor boys who want to fly a kite;And it affords the greatest joyTo make and use the pretty toy.But Aged Duffers, do not tryA large-sized paper kite to fly;You could not manage tail or string,And ten to one you'd spoil the thing.A morning full of happiness any boy may findBy sailing boats upon the lake, if he is so inclined;The wind it drives them... more...

I I thought once how Theocritus had sungOf the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,Who each one in a gracious hand appearsTo bear a gift for mortals, old or young:And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,Those of my own life, who by turns had flungA shadow across me.  Straightway I was ’ware,So weeping, how a... more...

Just Folks We're queer folks here.We'll talk about the weather,The good times we have had together,The good times near,The roses buddin', an' the beesOnce more upon their nectar sprees;The scarlet fever scare, an' whoCame mighty near not pullin' through,An' who had light attacks, an' allThe things that int'rest, big or small;But here you'll never hear... more...

Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,And cannot tell where to find ’em;Leave them alone, and they’ll come home,And bring their tails behind ’em. Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,And dreamt she heard them bleating;When she awoke, she found it a joke,For still they all were fleeting. Then up she took her little crook,Determined for to find them;She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,For... more...

MYSTERY OF CARMEL The Mission floor was with weeds o'ergrown,And crumbling and shaky its walls of stone;Its roof of tiles, in tiers and tiers,Had stood the storms of a hundred years.An olden, weird, medieval styleClung to the mouldering, gloomy pile,And the rhythmic voice of the breaking wavesSang a lonesome dirge in its land of graves.As I walked in the Mission old and gray—The Mission Carmel... more...

The Twelve-Forty-Five (For Edward J. Wheeler) Within the Jersey City shedThe engine coughs and shakes its head,The smoke, a plume of red and white,Waves madly in the face of night.And now the grave incurious starsGleam on the groaning hurrying cars.Against the kind and awful reignOf darkness, this our angry train,A noisy little rebel, poutsIts brief defiance, flames and shouts —And passes on, and... more...

VIOLETS. I. "And she tied a bunch of violets with a tress of her pretty brown hair." She sat in the yellow glow of the lamplight softly humming these words. It was Easter evening, and the newly risen spring world was slowly sinking to a gentle, rosy, opalescent slumber, sweetly tired of the joy which had pervaded it all day. For in the dawn of the perfect morn, it had arisen, stretched out its... more...

SMALL MEANS AND GREAT ENDS; OR, THE WIDOW'S POT OF OIL. BY JULIA A. FLETCHER. "Oh! how I do wish I was rich!" said Eliza Melvyn, dropping her work in her lap, and looking up discontentedly to her mother; "why should not I be rich as well as Clara Payson? There she passes in her father's carriage, with her fine clothes, and haughty ways; while I sit here—sew—sewing—all day... more...

POEMS OF THE THIRD PERIOD. THE MEETING. I see her still—by her fair train surrounded,The fairest of them all, she took her place;Afar I stood, by her bright charms confounded,For, oh! they dazzled with their heavenly grace.With awe my soul was filled—with bliss unbounded,While gazing on her softly radiant face;But soon, as if up-borne on wings of fire,My fingers 'gan to sweep the sounding... more...

CHAPTER FIRST. ABOUT A YOUNG ENGLISH MUSICIAN, AND HOW HE CAME TO SPEND THE WINTER AT MOUNT CARMEL. great many turtle-doves lived about Mount Carmel, and there were orange-trees and cypresses there, and among these the doves lived all the winter. They had broods early in the year, and towards the end of March, or the beginning of April, they set off like great gentlefolks, to spend "the season"... more...