The poet Kabîr, a selection from whose songs is here for the first time offered to English readers, is one of the most interesting personalities in the history of Indian mysticism. Born in or near Benares, of Mohammedan parents, and probably about the year 1440, be became in early life a disciple of the celebrated Hindu ascetic Râmânanda. Râmânanda had brought to Northern India the religious revival which... more...

GEORGE D. PRENTICE. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence nowIs brooding, like a gentle spirit o'erThe still and pulseless world. Hark! on the windsThe bell's deep tones are swelling; 'tis the knellOf the departed year. No funeral trainIs sweeping past; yet, on the stream and wood,With melancholy light, the moonbeams restLike a pale, spotless shroud; the air is stirred,As by a mourner's sigh; and, on yon cloud,That floats so still and... more...

I. Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart,Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires,Quiet, wild dreams—this is the time of sleep.Hold her more close than life itself. ForgetAll the excitements of the day, forgetAll problems and discomforts. Let the nightTake you unto herself, her blessed self.Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart,Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires,Quiet, wild dreams—this is the time of... more...

Simple Simon met a pieman, Going to the fair. Says Simple Simon to the pieman “Let me taste your ware.” Says the pieman to Simple Simon, “Show me first your penny.” Says Simple Simon to the pieman, “Indeed, I have not any.” Simon Looking for Plums. Simple Simon went to look If plums grew on a thistle, He pricked his fingers very much, Which made poor Simon whistle. Simon Fishing. Simple... more...

WOODEN SHIPS They are remembering forests where they grew,—The midnight quiet, and the giant dance;And all the murmuring summers that they knewAre haunting still their altered circumstance.Leaves they have lost, and robins in the nest,Tug of the goodly earth denied to ships,These, and the rooted certainties, and rest,—To gain a watery girdle at the hips. Only the wind that follows ever aft,They greet not as a stranger on their... more...

INTRODUCTION Professor Elizabeth Story Donno, in her recent Elizabethan Minor Epics (New York, 1963), has made an important contribution to both scholarship and teaching. Not only has she brought together for the first time in one volume most of the extant Elizabethan minor epics, but in so doing, she has hastened the recognition that the minor epic, or "epyllion" as it has often been called in modern times,[] is a distinctive literary genre as... more...

INTRODUCTION If we define poetry as the heart of man expressed in beautiful language, we shall not say that we have no national poetry. True, America has produced no Shakespeare and no Milton, but we have an inheritance in all English literature; and many poets in America have followed in the footsteps of their literary British forefathers. Puritan life was severe. It was warfare, and manual labor of a most exhausting type, and loneliness, and... more...

THE SONG OF THE KAZAK Kazak speeds ever toward the North,    Kazak has never heart for rest,Not on the field, nor in the wood,  Nor when in face of danger pressedHis steed the raging stream must breast! Kazak speeds ever toward the North,With him a mighty power brings,To win the honour of his land  Kazak his life unheeding flings—Till fame of him eternal sings! Kazak brought all SiberiaAt foot of... more...

“Let us buy,”Said Sally Fry,“Something nice,”Said Betsy Price,“What shall it be,”Said Kitty Lee,“A nice plum cake,”Said Lucy Wake.   Which will you have, the doll, or Noah’s Ark? said mother to Mary one day.The doll, if you please, I think I will take, for then I can prettily play.   One day John said, as he made his bow,“Mamma, are you at leisure now?Tell me, for much I... more...

The Lord is my rockand my fortress. 2 Sam. XXII 2. Rock of ages cleft for me,Let me hide myself in Thee;   Let the water and blood,From thy riven side which flow'd,   Be of sin the double cure,Cleanse me from its guilt and power.     Not the labors of my handsCan fulfil Thy laws demands;     Could my zeal no respite know,Could my tears for ever flow,     All for sin... more...