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Showing: 1-10 results of 897

AN A D D R E S S TO ALLWell provided Hibernians. Gentlemen,   S Nature hath been so very Indulgent to ye, as to stock your Gardens with Trees of the largest Growth, for which Reason ye are caress'd, whilst Men of less Parts, tho' in some Things more deserving, are laugh'd at, and excluded all Company. As all Infants, especially of the Female Sex, are much delighted with Fruit, so as their Years and other Appetites increase, no Wonder... more...

1 STRAY birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh. 2 O TROUPE of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words. 3 THE world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal. 4 IT is the tears of the earth that keep her smiles in bloom. 5 THE mighty desert is... more...

I.SUCCESS.[Published in "A Masque of Poets"at the request of "H.H.," the author'sfellow-townswoman and friend.]Success is counted sweetestBy those who ne'er succeed.To comprehend a nectarRequires sorest need.Not one of all the purple hostWho took the flag to-dayCan tell the definition,So clear, of victory,As he, defeated, dying,On whose forbidden earThe distant strains of triumphBreak, agonized and clear! II.Our share of night to bear,Our... more...

AN OLD HEART How young I am!  Ah! heaven, this curse of youth   Doth mock me from my mirror with great eyes,And pulsing veins repeat the unwelcome truth,   That I must live, though hope within me dies. So young, and yet I have had all of life.   Why, men have lived to see a hundred years,Who have not known the rapture, joy, and strife   Of my brief youth, its passion and its tears. Oh! what are... more...

No species of poetry is more ancient than the lyrical, and yet none shows so little sign of having outlived the requirements of human passion. The world may grow tired of epics and of tragedies, but each generation, as it sees the hawthorns blossom and the freshness of girlhood expand, is seized with a pang which nothing but the spasm of verse will relieve. Each youth imagines that spring-tide and love are wonders which he is the first of human... more...

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHER VERSES 1889-1891 TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled —Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled —Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.They are purged of pride because they died, they know the worth of their bays,They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of the Elder Days,It is their will to... more...

THREE WOMEN My love is young, so young;Young is her cheek, and her throat,And life is a song to be sungWith love the word for each note. Young is her cheek and her throat;Her eyes have the smile o' May.And love is the word for each noteIn the song of my life to-day. Her eyes have the smile o' May;Her heart is the heart of a dove,And the song of my life to-dayIs love, beautiful love. Her heart is the heart of a dove,Ah, would it but fly to... more...

INTRODUCTION. "Norman's Woe" is the picturesque name of a rocky headland, reef, and islet on the coast of Massachusetts, between Gloucester and Magnolia. The special disaster in which the name originated had long been lost from memory when the poet Longfellow chose the spot as a background for his description of the "Wreck of the Hesperus," and gave it an association that it will scarcely lose while the English language endures. Nor does it... 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...

by Horace
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE I. TO MAECENAS. Maecenas, descended from royal ancestors, O both my protection and my darling honor! There are those whom it delights to have collected Olympic dust in the chariot race; and [whom] the goal nicely avoided by the glowing wheels, and the noble palm, exalts, lords of the earth, to the gods. This man, if a crowd of the capricious Quirites strive to raise him to the highest dignities;... more...