General Books

INTRODUCTION Because man is both militant and pacific, he has expressed in literature, as indeed in the other forms of art, his pacific and militant moods. Nor are these moods, of necessity, incompatible. War may become the price of peace, and peace may so decay as inevitably to bring about war. Of the dully unresponsive pacificist and the jingo patriot, quick to anger, the latter no doubt is the more... more...

A Dream.I stood far off above the haunts of menSomewhere, I know not, when the sky was dimFrom some worn glory, and the morning hymnOf the gay oriole echoed from the glen.Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew I soughtA visioned face, a voice the wind had caught.I passed the waking things that stirred and gazed,Thought-bound, and heeded not; the waking flowersDrank in the morning mist,... more...

My readers, would you like to goabroad, for just an hour or so,With little friends of different ages? Look at them in these pictured pages—Brothers and sisters you can see,—all children of one family.Their father, too, you here will find, and good Miss Earle, their teacher kind.Three years ago their Mother died, and ever since has Father triedTo give his children in the Spring some tour, or treat,... more...

ACROSS THE SEA. I.—CHILDHOOD. Ah! who can speak that country whence I fled?None but a lover may its beauty know,None but a poet can its rapture sing;And e'en his muse, upborne on Fancy's wing,Will grieve o'er beauties still unnoticed,O'er raptures language is too poor to show. Fore'er remains the land where children dwell,Earth's fairest mem'ry and its... more...

Proem Where are they— the Afterwhiles—Luring us the lengthening milesOf our lives? Where is the dawnWith the dew across the lawnStroked with eager feet the farWay the hills and valleys are?Were the sun that smites the frownOf the eastward-gazer down?Where the rifted wreaths of mistO'er us, tinged with amethyst,Round the mountain's steep defiles?Where are the afterwhiles? Afterwhile— and... more...

A GENTLEMAN OF THE HIGHWAYS By KATHRYN JARBOE Since early morning nothing but sunshine had entered the hospitable doorway of The Jolly Grig, a tavern not a dozen miles from the outer edge of London town. Across the white, sanded floor golden patches of light had moved with measured tread, and merry motes had danced in the golden beams, but nothing else had stirred. On the deep hearth were piled huge... more...

Aladdin poor the wizard found,Who moved from cavern’s mouth a stone;Then bade him go beneath the ground,And pace through unknown realms alone,Till from a niche he bore awayA lamp—extinguishing its ray.  The youth obedient instant hied,When fruits luxuriant met his sight;The white were pearls in snowy pride,Diamonds the clear—of brilliant light;For red the rubies dazzling blazed,Whereof Aladdin... more...

All round the year the changing suns and rains Beat on men’s work—to wreck and to decay— But nature builds more perfectly than they, Her changing unchanged sea resists, remains. All round the year new flowers spring up to shew How gloriously life is more strong than death; And in our hearts are seeds of love and faith, Ah, sun and showers, be kind, and let them grow.   RESURGAM. Swift pass the... more...

ALL THAT MATTERSWhen all that matters shall be written downAnd the long record of our years is told,Where sham, like flesh, must perish and grow cold;When the tomb closes on our fair renownAnd priest and layman, sage and motleyed clownMust quit the places which they dearly hold,What to our credit shall we find enscrolled?And what shall be the jewels of our crown?I fancy we shall hear to our... more...

POEMS.The dew is gleaming in the grass,The morning hours are seven,And I am fain to watch you pass,Ye soft white clouds of heaven.Ye stray and gather, part and fold;The wind alone can tame you;I think of what in time of oldThe poets loved to name you.They called you sheep, the sky your sward,A field without a reaper;They called the shining sun your lord,The shepherd wind your keeper.Your sweetest poets... more...