Poetry
General Books
Sort by:
THE sun withdrew his last pale ray,And clos’d the short and chearless day;Loud blew the wind, and rain and sleetAgainst the cottage casement beat.The busy housewife trimm’d her fire,And drew the oaken settle nigher,[p6]And welcom’d home her own good manTo his clean hearth, his pipe, and can;For Homespun and his bustling wifeWere honest folks in humble life,Who liv’d contented with their lot,And...
more...
HYMNS. "SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME.""Let little children come to me,"—This is what the Saviour said;Little children, come and seeWhere these gracious words are read.Often on these pages look,—Of the love of God they tell;'Tis indeed a holy book,—Learn to read and love it well.Thus you hear the Saviour speak,—"Come ye all and learn of me";He was...
more...
AFTER HORACE What asks the Bard? He prays for nought But what the truly virtuous crave: That is, the things he plainly ought To have. 'Tis not for wealth, with all the shocks That vex distracted millionaires, Plagued by their fluctuating stocks And shares: While plutocrats their millions new Expend upon each costly whim, A...
more...
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ON THE MORNING OF CHRISTS NATIVITY.Compos'd 1629. I This is the Month, and this the happy mornWherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,Our great redemption from above did bring;For so the holy sages once did sing,That he our deadly forfeit should release,And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. II That glorious Form, that Light...
more...
CHRISTMAS WITH THE BARON. I. Once upon a time—fairy tales always begin with once upon a time—once upon a time there lived in a fine old castle on the Rhine a certain Baron von Schrochslofsleschshoffinger. You will not find it an easy name to pronounce; in fact, the baron never tried it himself but once, and then he was laid up for two days afterwards; so in future we will merely call him "the...
more...
by:
Grace Greenwood
TO THE LITTLE COUSINS ANNIE, KITTY, AND CORDELIA I dedicate this book to you, my dearest dears, with more love than I have ink to write out, and more good wishes and fond hopes than any printer would care to print. You will see by these stories that the children of different countries are pretty much alike. I doubt not, if you were in France now, you would get along nicely with the little Monsieurs and...
more...
by:
Charles Moreton
1At Palaiseau, there liv’d a maid,In form and features mild;The stings of conscience never prey’d,On this devoted child.She serv’d a wealthy farmer there,An honest soul was he;Her comforts were his only care,And all he wish’d to see. 3His wife was of another mould,And prematurely smart;Hasty, and rash, with that a scold,Yet still a feeling heart. One summers eve’, her labor done,She sat in...
more...
THE VOICE THAT SINGS The voice that sings across the night Of long forgotten days and things,Is there an ear to hear aright The voice that sings? It is as when a curfew rings Melodious in the dying light,A sound that flies on pulsing wings. And faded eyes that once were bright Brim over, as to life it bringsThe echo of a dead delight, The voice that sings. In vain you fervently...
more...
by:
William Morris
HERE BEGIN POEMS BY THE WAY.WRITTEN BY WILLIAM MORRIS.AND FIRST IS THE POEM CALLEDFROM THE UPLAND TO THE SEA. Shall we wake one morn of spring,Glad at heart of everything,Yet pensive with the thought of eve?Then the white house shall we leave,Pass the wind-flowers and the bays,Through the garth, and go our ways,Wandering down among the meadsTill our very joyance needsRest at last; till we shall comeTo...
more...
by:
Joyce Kilmer
Main Street (For S. M. L.) I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to beWhen it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go. Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing,And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the...
more...