General Books

THEILLUSTRATEDALPHABET OF BIRDS       BOSTONWM. CROSBY & H.P. NICHOLS.1851.      A     a   THE AUK A is an Auk,   Of the Artic sea,He lives on the ice,   Where the winds blow free.          B     b THE BLUE BIRD. B is a Blue Bird.  In early spring,How sweet his songs  Through the forest ring.      C    c   THE CONDOR. C is a Condor,  On the Andes'... more...

Strange Meeting It seemed that out of the battle I escapedDown some profound dull tunnel, long since scoopedThrough granites which Titanic wars had groined.Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and staredWith piteous recognition in fixed eyes,Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.And by his smile, I knew that... more...

McLOUGHLIN BRO'S 30 BEEKMAN StThere was a crooked man, and he went a crooked mile,And he found a crooked six-pence against a crooked stile;He bought a crooked hat, which caught a crooked mouse,And they all lived together in a little crooked house.Go to bed Tom, go to bed Tom—Merry or sober, go to bed Tom.Little Tommy Grace,Had a pain in his face,So that he could not learn a letter;When in came... more...

STILLNESS Invitingly, the sea shines her stars,captive flames within an impatient heartas darkness loads the pleasent isles with coarseness,slow sparks rise over a roaring fire. And strolling beaches near dawnwhen the sand fleas & crabs are seen to flee,one catches upon the imperfect stillnessa song of one - wind with seadrawning nearinward, such stars turnas bonds at lastworked free. The moon, at... more...

THE LAW OF THE YUKONThisis the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain:"Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane.Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore;Send me men girt for the combat, men who are grit to the core;Swift as the panther in triumph, fierce as the bear in defeat,Sired of a bulldog parent, steeled in the furnace heat.Send me the... more...

SMALL MEANS AND GREAT ENDS; OR, THE WIDOW'S POT OF OIL. BY JULIA A. FLETCHER. "Oh! how I do wish I was rich!" said Eliza Melvyn, dropping her work in her lap, and looking up discontentedly to her mother; "why should not I be rich as well as Clara Payson? There she passes in her father's carriage, with her fine clothes, and haughty ways; while I sit here—sew—sewing—all day... more...

The BABES IN THE WOOD.Now ponder well, you parents deare,These wordes which I shall write;A doleful story you shall heare,In time brought forth to light.A gentleman of good accountIn Norfolke dwelt of late.Who did in honour far surmountMost men of his estate.Sore sicke he was, and like to dye,No helpe his life could save;His wife by him as sicke did lye,And both possest one grave.No love between these... more...

CANTO V FROM the first circle I descended thusDown to the second, which, a lesser spaceEmbracing, so much more of grief containsProvoking bitter moans.  There, Minos standsGrinning with ghastly feature: he, of allWho enter, strict examining the crimes, Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,According as he foldeth him around:For when before him comes th' ill fated soul,It all confesses; and... more...

Since the publication of Edward Fitzgerald's classic translation of the Rubaiyat in 1851 - or rather since its general popularity several years later - poets minor and major have been rendering the sincerest form of flattery to the genius of the Irishman who brought Persia into the best regulated families. Unfortunately there was only one Omar and there were scores of imitators who, in order to... more...

THE BURIAL OF COCK ROBIN. Here lies Cock Robin,Dead and cold;This book his endWill soon unfold. Who kill'd Cock Robin?I, said the Sparrow,With my bow and arrow,And I kill'd Cock Robin. This is the Sparrow,With his bow and arrow. Who saw him die?I, said the fly,With my little eye,And I saw him die. This is the Fly,With his little eye. Who caught his blood?I, said the Fish,With my little... more...