General Books

SEA GARDEN SEA ROSERose, harsh rose,marred and with stint of petals,meagre flower, thin,sparse of leaf,more preciousthan a wet rosesingle on a stem—you are caught in the drift.Stunted, with small leaf,you are flung on the sand,you are liftedin the crisp sandthat drives in the wind.Can the spice-rosedrip such acrid fragrancehardened in a leaf? O be swift—we have always known you wanted us.We fled... more...

Romance IWhen I go forth to greet the glad-faced Spring,Just at the time of opening apple-buds,When brooks are laughing, winds are whispering,On babbling hillsides or in warbling woods,There is an unseen presence that eludes:—Perhaps a Dryad, in whose tresses clingThe loamy odors of old solitudes,Who, from her beechen doorway, calls; and leadsMy soul to follow; now with dimpling wordsOf leaves; and... more...

"A true poet is one of the most precious gifts that can be bestowed on a generation." He speaks for it and he speaks to it. Reflecting and interpreting his age and its thoughts, feelings, and purposes, he speaks for it; and with a love of truth, with a keener moral insight into the universal heart of man, and with the intuition of inspiration, he speaks to it, and through it to the world. It is... more...

Behind the Arras I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall feel quite at home: I love to roam. Day after day I loiter and explore From door to door; So many treasures lure The curious mind. What histories obscure They must immure! I hardly know which room I care for best; This fronting west, With the strange hills in view, Where the great sun... more...

LET ME SING OF WHAT I KNOWA wild west Coast, a little Town,Where little Folk go up and down,Tides flow and winds blow:Night and Tempest and the Sea,Human Will and Human Fate:What is little, what is great?Howsoe'er the answer be,Let me sing of what I know.Adieu to Belashanny!where I was bred and born;Go where I may, I'll think of you,as sure as night and morn.The kindly spot, the friendly... more...

SONGS OF TWO I   Last night I dreamed this dream: That I was dead;      And as I slept, forgot of man and God,      That other dreamless sleep of rest,      I heard a footstep on the sod,      As of one passing overhead,—  And lo, thou, Dear, didst touch me on the breast,      Saying: "What shall I write against thy name          That men should... more...

THE FAIRY CHANGELING Dermod O’Byrne of Omah townIn his garden strode up and down;He pulled his beard, and he beat his breast;And this is his trouble and woe confessed: “The good-folk came in the night, and theyHave stolen my bonny wean away;Have put in his place a changeling,A weashy, weakly, wizen thing! “From the speckled hen nine eggs I stole,And lighting a fire of a glowing coal,I fried the... more...

INTRODUCTION BJÖRNSON AS A LYRIC POET I lived far more than e'er I sang;Thought, ire, and mirth unceasing rang  Around me, where I guested;To be where loud life's battles callFor me was well-nigh more than all  My pen on page arrested. What's true and strong has growing-room,And will perhaps eternal bloom,  Without black ink's salvation,And he will be, who least it... more...

Many editions of Gray have been published in the last fifty years, some of them very elegant, and some showing considerable editorial labor, but not one, so far as I am aware, critically exact either in text or in notes. No editor since Mathias ( 1814) has given the 2d line of the Elegy as Gray wrote and printed it; while Mathias's mispunctuation of the 123d line has been copied by his successors,... more...

IA month without sight of the sunRising or reigning or settingThrough days without use of the day,Who calls it the month of May?The sense of the name is undoneAnd the sound of it fit for forgetting.We shall not feel if the sun rise,We shall not care when it sets:If a nightingale make night's airAs noontide, why should we care?Till a light of delight that is done rise,Extinguishing grey... more...