General Books

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...

CANTO I. I. LETTER FROM THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS TO LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE. "I hear from Bigorre you are there. I am toldYou are going to marry Miss Darcy. Of old,So long since you may have forgotten it now(When we parted as friends, soon mere strangers to grow),Your last words recorded a pledge—what you will—A promise—the time is now come to fulfil.The letters I ask you, my lord, to return,I... more...

The source code for this HTML page contains only Latin-1 characters, but it directs the browser to display some special characters. The original work contained a few phrases or lines of Greek text. These are represented here as Greek letters, for example Οá¿–μοι. If the mouse is held still over such phrases, a transliteration in Beta-code pops up. Aside from Greek letters, the only... more...

POETRY FOR POETRY'S SAKE One who, after twenty years, is restored to the University where he was taught and first tried to teach, and who has received at the hands of his Alma Mater an honour of which he never dreamed, is tempted to speak both of himself and of her. But I remember that you have come to listen to my thoughts about a great subject, and not to my feelings about myself; and, of... more...

They who maintained their rights,Through storm and stress,And walked in all the waysThat God made known,Led by no wandering lights,And by no guess,Through dark and desolate daysOf trial and moan:Here let their monumentRise, like a wordIn rock commemorativeOf our Land's youth;Of ways the Puritan went,With soul love-spurredTo suffer, die, and liveFor faith and truth.Here they the corner-stoneOf... more...

INTRODUCTION On a topographical map of Literature Nonsense would be represented by a small and sparsely settled country, neglected by the average tourist, but affording keen delight to the few enlightened travellers who sojourn within its borders. It is a field which has been neglected by anthologists and essayists; one of its few serious recognitions being in a certain "Treatise of Figurative... more...

The shades of night were falling fast,As through an Eastern village passedA youth who bore, through dust and heat,A stencil-plate, that read complete—“SAPOLIO.” CLEAN PAINT, OIL CLOTHS, FLOORS,WOOD WORK, TABLES & SHELVES with Sapolio. His brow was sad, but underneath,White with “Odonto” shone his teeth,And through them hissed the words, “Well, blowMe tight if here is ’ary... more...

Gerontion Thou hast nor youth nor ageBut as it were an after dinner sleepDreaming of both. Here I am, an old man in a dry month,Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.I was neither at the hot gatesNor fought in the warm rainNor knee deep in the salt marsh, heaving a cutlass,Bitten by flies, fought.My house is a decayed house,And the jew squats on the window sill, the owner,Spawned in some estaminet... more...

PART THE FIRST. It is an ancient Mariner,And he stoppeth one of three."By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? "The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,And I am next of kin;The guests are met, the feast is set:May'st hear the merry din." He holds him with his skinny hand,"There was a ship," quoth he."Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard... more...

INTRODUCTION One Spring day in London, long before the invention of freak verse and Freudism, I was standing in front of the Cafe Royal in Regent Street when there emerged from its portals the most famous young writer of the day, the Poet about whose latest work "The Book Bills of Narcissus" all literary London was then talking. Richard Le Gallienne was the first real poet I had ever laid eyes... more...