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Showing: 1-10 results of 483

The reader of to-day will not forget, I trust, that it is nearly a quarter of a century since these papers were written. Statements which were true then are not necessarily true now. Thus, the speed of the trotting horse has been so much developed that the record of the year when the fastest time to that date was given must be very considerably altered, as may be seen by referring to a note on page 49 of the "Autocrat." No doubt many other... more...

RELIGION AND POETRY BY WASHINGTON GLADDEN. The time is not long past when the copulative in that title might have suggested to some minds an antithesis,—as acid and alkali, or heat and cold. That religion could have affiliation with anything so worldly as poetry would have seemed to some pious people a questionable proposition. There were the Psalms, in the Old Testament, to be sure; and the minister had been heard to allude to them as... more...

AFTER ALL, WHAT IS POETRY? BY JOHN RAYMOND HOWARD. Considering the immense volume of poetical writing produced, and lost or accumulated, by all nations through the ages, it is of curious interest that no generally accepted definition of the word "Poetry" has ever been made. Of course, all versifiers aim at "poetry"; yet, what is poetry? Many definitions have been attempted. Some of these would exclude work by poets whom the world agrees to... more...

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 that Sun-god’s lonely home,Lonely on... more...

APPREHENSION AND all hours long, the town  Roars like a beast in a caveThat is wounded thereAnd like to drown;  While days rush, wave after waveOn its lair. An invisible woe unseals  The flood, so it passes beyondAll bounds: the great old cityRecumbent roars as it feels  The foamy paw of the pondReach from immensity. But all that it can do  Now, as the tide rises,Is to listen and hear the... more...


Barter   Life has loveliness to sell,   All beautiful and splendid things,  Blue waves whitened on a cliff,   Soaring fire that sways and sings,  And children's faces looking up  Holding wonder like a cup.   Life has loveliness to sell,   Music like a curve of gold,  Scent of pine trees in the rain,   Eyes that love you, arms... more...

ARGUMENT After much struggling and loss in love and in the world of man, the protagonist throws in his lot with a woman who is already married. Together they go into another country, she perforce leaving her children behind. The conflict of love and hate goes on between the man and the woman, and between these two and the world around them, till it reaches some sort of conclusion, they transcend into some condition of blessedness MOONRISE AND... more...

BOOK I. INSCRIPTIONS One's-Self I Sing One's-self I sing, a simple separate person,Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.Of physiology from top to toe I sing,Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I saythe Form complete is worthier far,The Female equally with the Male I sing.Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine,The Modern Man I sing. As I... more...

Helen of Troy Wild flight on flight against the fading dawnThe flames' red wings soar upward duskily.This is the funeral pyre and Troy is deadThat sparkled so the day I saw it first,And darkened slowly after. I am sheWho loves all beauty—yet I wither it.Why have the high gods made me wreak their wrath—Forever since my maidenhood to sowSorrow and blood about me? Lo, they keepTheir bitter care above me even now.It was the gods who led... more...

GUARDS! A Review in Hyde Park 1913.The Crowd Watches. WHERE the trees rise like cliffs, proud and  blue-tinted in the distance,Between the cliffs of the trees, on the grey-  green parkRests a still line of soldiers, red motionless range of  guardsSmouldering with darkened busbies beneath the bay-  onets' slant rain. Colossal in nearness a blue police sits still on his horseGuarding the path; his hand... more...