General Books

THE TAILOR AND THE CROWA carrion crow sat on an oak,Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do, Watching a tailor shape his cloak; Sing heigh ho, the carrion crow, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do. Wife, bring me my old bent bow,Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do. That I may shoot yon carrion crow; Sing heigh ho, the carrion crow, Fol de riddle, lol de riddle, hi ding do. The tailor he... more...

THE SYLVAN CABIN A CENTENARY ODE ON THE BIRTH OF LINCOLNIO, fairest Dame of sylvan glades,We come to pay thee homage due,Embrace thee softly and to kissThy lovely, long-forsaken cheeks;To smooth thy flowing silver locksAnd bind about thy snowy neckA necklace golden studded fullWith rarest gems and shining pearls.Our eyes, though sometimes dimmed with tears,In purer lustre sparkle forthWhene'er... more...

The Land God Forgot The lonely sunsets flare forlornDown valleys dreadly desolate;The lordly mountains soar in scornAs still as death, as stern as fate. The lonely sunsets flame and die;The giant valleys gulp the night;The monster mountains scrape the sky,Where eager stars are diamond-bright. So gaunt against the gibbous moon,Piercing the silence velvet-piled,A lone wolf howls his ancient rune —The... more...

SONG THE FIRST. Up Riber’s street the dance they ply,   The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights most merrily,   For young King Erik Erikson. On Riber’s bridge the dance it goes,   The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights in scollop’d shoes,   For young King Erik Erikson. ’Twas Riber Wolf the dance who led,   The Castle’s won, the... more...

The Sword Singing— The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword Clanging imperious Forth from Time’s battlements His ancient and triumphing Song. In the beginning,Ere God inspired HimselfInto the clay thingThumbed to His image,The vacant, the naked shellSoon to be Man:Thoughtful He pondered it,Prone there and impotent,Fragile, invitingAttack and discomfiture:Then, with a smile—As He heard... more...

JANUARYNow Time the harvester surveysHis sorry crops of yesterdays;Of trampled hopes and reaped regrets,And for another harvest whetsHis ancient scythe, eying the whileThe budding year with cynic smile.Well, let him smile; in snug retreatI fill my pipe with honeyed sweet,Whose incense wafted from the bowlShall make warm sunshine in my soul,And conjure mid the fragrant hazeFair memories of other... more...

Where Bobby lives there is a hill—A hill so steep and high,'Twould fill the bill for Jack and JillTheir famous act to try Once Bobby's Go-cart broke awayAnd down this hill it kited.The careless Nurse screamed in dismayBut Bobby was delighted He clapped his hands, in manner rude,And laughed in high elation—While, close behind, the Nurse pursuedIn hopeless consternation An Officer slid off... more...

THE SISTERS' TRAGEDY A. D. 1670   AGLAE, a widow  MURIEL, her unmarried sister.   IT happened once, in that brave land that lies  For half the twelvemonth wrapt in sombre skies,  Two sisters loved one man. He being dead,  Grief loosed the lips of her he had not wed,  And all the passion that through heavy years  Had masked in smiles unmasked itself in tears.  No purer love may... more...

THE SINGING MAN I He sang above the vineyards of the world.  And after him the vines with woven handsClambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled  Triumphing green above the barren lands;Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood,  Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil,And looked upon his work; and it was good:        The corn, the wine, the oil. He sang above the... more...

TO BELGIUM Our tears, our songs, our laurels—what are these  To thee in thy Gethsemane of loss,Stretched in thine unimagined agonies  On Hell's last engine of the Iron Cross. For such a world as this that thou shouldst die  Is price too vast—yet, Belgium, hadst thou soldThyself, O then had fled from out the earth  Honour for ever, and left only Gold. Nor diest thou—for soon shalt... more...