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The prologe.   WHan I aduert in my remembraunce The famous draughtes of poetes eloquent Whiche theyr myndes dyd well enhaunce Bokes to contryue that were expedyent To be remembred without Impedyment For the profyte of humanyte This was the custume of antyquyte. I now symple and moost rude And naked in depured eloquence For dulnes rethoryke doth exclude Wherfore in makynge I lake intellygence Also... more...

THE TRUMPET RISE up, rise up,And, as the trumpet blowingChases the dreams of men,As the dawn glowingThe stars that left unlitThe land and water,Rise up and scatterThe dew that coversThe print of last night's lovers—Scatter it, scatter it! While you are listeningTo the clear horn,Forget, men, everythingOn this earth newborn,Except that it is lovelierThan any mysteries.Open your eyes to the... more...

GUARDS! A Review in Hyde Park 1913.The Crowd Watches. WHERE the trees rise like cliffs, proud and  blue-tinted in the distance,Between the cliffs of the trees, on the grey-  green parkRests a still line of soldiers, red motionless range of  guardsSmouldering with darkened busbies beneath the bay-  onets' slant rain. Colossal in nearness a blue police sits still on his horseGuarding the... more...

ADAM MICKIEWICZ (1798-1855) The last of the eighteenth century was an important period for Russia and Poland, not only politically, but in letters and art. It marked the birth of statesmen, patriots, poets and writers. It was into a Poland of great names and greater activities that Adam Mickiewicz was born in 1798, as son of an impoverished family of the old nobility. Three years before, the third and... more...

MIST IN THE VALLEYIMist in the valley, weeping mistBeset my homeward way.No gleam of rose or amethystHallowed the parting day;A shroud, a shroud of awful greyWrapped every woodland brow,And drooped in crumbling disarrayAround each wintry bough.IIAnd closer round me now it clungUntil I scarce could seeThe stealthy pathway overhungBy silent tree and treeWhich floated in that mysteryAs—poised in... more...

by: Anonymous
THE MAN IN THE MOONThe Man in the MoonCame tumbling down,And asked his way to Norwich; They told him south,And he burnt his mouthWith eating cold pease-porridge.TO MARKET, TO MARKETTo market, to market, to buy a fat Pig; Home again, home again, dancing a jig. To market, to market, to buy a fat Hog; Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.THERE WAS A MANThere was a man, and he had nought,  And robbers came... more...

TO OUR MOTHERSOurs the Great Adventure,Yours the pain to bear,Ours the golden service stripes,Yours the marks of care.If all the Great AdventureThe old Earth ever knew,Was ours and in this little book'Twould still belong to you!These Sketches were made during a year's service as a camion driver with the French army in the Chemin-des-Dames sector and a year's service with the A.E.F. as an... more...

Over Here Pledged to the bravest and the best,We stand, who cannot share the fray,Staunch for the danger and the test.For them at night we kneel and pray.Be with them, Lord, who serve the truth,And make us worthy of our youth! Here mother-love and father-loveUnite in love of country now;Here to the flag that flies above,Our heads we reverently bow;Here as one people, night and day,For victory we work... more...

The prologue   THe prudent problems / & the noble werkes Of the gentyll poetes in olde antyquyte Vnto this day hath made famous clerkes For the poetes Wrote nothynge in vanyte But grounded them on good moralyte Encensynge out the fayre dulcet fume Our langage rude to exyle and consume The ryght eloquent poete and monke of bery Made many fayre bookes / as it is probable From ydle derkenes / to... more...

CANTO XV True love, that ever shows itself as clearIn kindness, as loose appetite in wrong,Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still'dThe sacred chords, that are by heav'n's right handUnwound and tighten'd, flow to righteous prayersShould they not hearken, who, to give me willFor praying, in accordance thus were mute?He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief,Who, for the love of... more...