General Books

upon a time I visited Fairy-land and spent a day in Goblin-town. The people there are much like ourselves, only they are very, very small and roguish. They play pranks on one another and have great fun. They are good natured and jolly, and rarely get angry. But if one does get angry, he quickly recovers his good nature and joins again in the sport. If a Goblin should continue angry he would take on some... more...

THE FAR AWAY COUNTRY NORA HOPPER CHESSON Far away's the country where I desire to go, Far away's the country where the blue roses grow, Far away's the country and very far away, And who would travel thither must go 'twixt night and day. Far away's the country, and the seas are wild That you must voyage over, grown man or chrisom child, O'er leagues of land and water a... 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...

PREFACE. It is singular that the first great age of English lyric poetry should have been also the one great age of English dramatic poetry: but it is hardly less singular that the lyric school should have advanced as steadily as the dramatic school declined from the promise of its dawn. Born with Marlowe, it rose at once with Shakespeare to heights inaccessible before and since and for ever, to sink... more...

PREFACE There are two great traditions of womanhood. One presents the Madonna brooding over the mystery of motherhood; the other, more confusedly, tells of the acolyte, the priestess, the clairvoyante of the unknown gods. This latter exists complete in herself, a personality as definite and as significant as a symbol. She is behind all the processes of art, though she rarely becomes a conscious artist,... more...

PART I. I. The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun. And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,And lifts his palms for the first... more...

PREFACE If—and the thing is wildly possible—the charge of writing nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line (in p.4) "Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes." In view of this painful possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal indignantly to my other writings as a proof that I am... more...

THEILLUSTRATEDALPHABET OF BIRDS       BOSTONWM. CROSBY & H.P. NICHOLS.1851.      A     a   THE AUK A is an Auk,   Of the Artic sea,He lives on the ice,   Where the winds blow free.          B     b THE BLUE BIRD. B is a Blue Bird.  In early spring,How sweet his songs  Through the forest ring.      C    c   THE CONDOR. C is a Condor,  On the Andes'... more...

The Inn of Dreams           Sweet Laughter! Sweet Delight!My heart is like a lighted Inn that waitsYour swift approach . . . and at the open gatesWhite Beauty stands and listens like a flower.She has been dreaming of you in the night,O fairy Princes; and her eyes are bright.Spur your fleet horses, this is Beauty's hour!Even as when a golden flame up-curledQuivers and flickers out in a... more...

RICHARD AND HIS BROTHER.Richard, come and play with me,Underneath the willow tree;Sitting in its peaceful shade,We'll sing the song papa has made,Whilst its drooping branches spread,Stretching far above our head,Sweetly tempering the blazeOf the sun's meridian rays.There the rose and violet blow,The lily with her bell of snow,And the richly scented woodbine,Round about its trunk doth... more...