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...

ARGUMENT In this Threnody and Birth-song of the Elements, written in California some five years ago, I have striven to capture and present some of the chief-factors and phases of the eternal drama of Life and Death in the Universe. These powers, elements and agents I have endowed with human attributes and human emotions as though it were Man himself who uttered himself through them. The actors in this... more...

PREFACE To the readers of this poem an apology is needed for affixing thereto a praem. Some friends of mine have been plaguing me beyond the restrictive line of Patience for the true cause of conceiving the accompanying collection of words, balderdash or what you will, some even asseverating with the eruditeness of an Aristole that it was a nebulous idea, an embryonic form of thought hibernating within... more...

CANTO XXII Astounded, to the guardian of my stepsI turn'd me, like the chill, who always runsThither for succour, where he trusteth most,And she was like the mother, who her sonBeholding pale and breathless, with her voiceSoothes him, and he is cheer'd; for thus she spake,Soothing me: "Know'st not thou, thou art in heav'n?And know'st not thou, whatever is in heav'n,Is... more...

THE VAGABOND It was deadly cold in Danbury town  One terrible night in mid November,  A night that the Danbury folk rememberFor the sleety wind that hammered them down,That chilled their faces and chapped their skin,  And froze their fingers and bit their feet,And made them ice to the heart within,      And spattered and scattered      And shattered and batteredTheir shivering bodies... more...

POEMS OF THE FIRST PERIOD. HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. [This and the following poem are, with some alterations, introducedin the Play of "The Robbers."] ANDROMACHE.Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain,Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain,Stalks Peleus' ruthless son?Who, when thou glid'st amid the dark abodes,To hurl the spear and to revere the gods,Shall teach thine orphan... more...

THE ROCK-A-BY LADY The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby streetComes stealing; comes creeping;The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet—She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,When she findeth you sleeping! There is one little dream of a beautiful drum—"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth;There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum,And lo! thick and fast... more...

Punky Dunk, so fat, was a black and white catOf exceedingly tender years.He had black on his nose and the tips of his toes,On the end of his tail and his ears.He cast his lot in a very soft spotFor his bed was a box full of straw,And he slept all night with his eyes shut tightAnd his little black nose on his paw.Punky Dunk would peep, though he seemed asleep,At the bird in its cage of brass,And his tail... more...

SONG FOR THE CENTENARY OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 1. Five years beyond an hundred years have seenTheir winters, white as faith's and age's hue,Melt, smiling through brief tears that broke between,And hope's young conquering colours reared anew,Since, on the day whose edge for kings made keenSmote sharper once than ever storm-wind blew,A head predestined for the girdling greenThat laughs at... more...

1ONETWOCome buckle my Shoe.You lazy Elf!Pray do it yourself. Philadel Pub. and Sold by W. Charles. 34THREEFOURShut the door:Let us keep ourselves warmAnd not think of the storm.6FIVESIXI’m picking some sticks,That my mother may makeA nice currant Cake.78SEVENEIGHTYou are come here too late.’Tis all one to Ben,He can go home again.910NINETENWho’ll buy a fat Hen?Her bones are so smallYou may eat... more...