Poetry Books
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A DEDICATION TO E.C.B. He was, through boyhood's storm and shower, My best, my nearest friend; We wore one hat, smoked one cigar, One standing at each end. We were two hearts with single hope, Two faces in one hood; I knew the secrets of his youth; I watched his every mood. The little things that none but I Saw were beyond his wont, The streaming hair, the tie behind, The coat tails worn in front....
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Helena Frank
In the Factory Oh, here in the shop the machines roar so wildly,That oft, unaware that I am, or have been,I sink and am lost in the terrible tumult;And void is my soul… I am but a machine.I work and I work and I work, never ceasing;Create and create things from morning till e'en;For what?—and for whom—Oh, I know not! Oh, ask not!Who ever has heard of a conscious machine? No, here is no...
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Anne Bronte
PILATE'S WIFE'S DREAM. I've quench'd my lamp, I struck it in that startWhich every limb convulsed, I heard it fallвÐâThe crash blent with my sleep, I saw departIts light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;Over against my bed, there shone a gleamStrange, faint, and mingling also with my dream. It sank, and I am wrapt in utter gloom;How far is night advanced, and when will...
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Sarojini Naidu
INTRODUCTION It is at my persuasion that these poems are now published. The earliest of them were read to me in London in 1896, when the writer was seventeen; the later ones were sent to me from India in 1904, when she was twenty-five; and they belong, I think, almost wholly to those two periods. As they seemed to me to have an individual beauty of their own, I thought they ought to be published. The...
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BAYBERRY CANDLESDear sweet, when dusk comes up the hill, The fire leaps high with golden prongs;I place along the chimneysill The tiny candles of my songs. And though unsteadily they burn, As evening shades from grey to blueLike candles they will surely learn To shine more clear, for love of you. SECRET LAUGHTER"I had a secret...
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RHYMES OF A ROLLING STONE Prelude I sing no idle songs of dalliance days,No dreams Elysian inspire my rhyming;I have no Celia to enchant my lays,No pipes of Pan have set my heart to chiming.I am no wordsmith dripping gems divineInto the golden chalice of a sonnet;If love songs witch you, close this book of mine,Waste no time on it. Yet bring I to my work an eager joy,A lusty love of life and all things...
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Kenneth Hartley
The Hill People.Their steps are light and exceedingly fleet:They pass me by in the hurrying street.I pause to look at a window’s show—From the white-flecked alp the hill winds blow—And all at once it has passed me there,Lilting back to the land of the air,Back to the land of the great white stills:Is it only the wind that comes down from the hills?———Was it Pikes Peak Pixie or Cheyenne...
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Thomas Hardy
AN UPBRAIDING Now I am dead you sing to me The songs we used to know,But while I lived you had no wish Or care for doing so. Now I am dead you come to me In the moonlight, comfortless;Ah, what would I have given alive To win such tenderness! When you are dead, and stand to me Not differenced, as now,But like again, will you be cold As when we lived, or how? "These...
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MOLLIE CHARANE “O, Mollie Charane, where got you your gold?” Lone, lone you have left me here.“O not in the curragh, deep under the mould.” Lone, lone, and void of cheer. “O, Mollie Charane, where got you your stock?” Lone, lone you have left me here.“O not in the curragh from under a block.” Lone, lone, and void of cheer. “O, Mollie Charane, where got you your...
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Sara Teasdale
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 that hold, And for your spirit's still...
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