Poetry Books

LES DEMOISELLES DE SAUVE TO S. A. S. ALICE, PRINCESSE DE MONACO Beautiful ladies through the orchard pass;Bend under crutched-up branches, forked and low;Trailing their samet palls o'er dew-drenched grass. Pale blossoms, looking on proud Jacqueline,Blush to the colour of her finger tips,And rosy knuckles, laced with yellow lace. High-crested Berthe discerns, with slant, clinched eyes,Amid the... more...

I. Thou tak'st no heed of me,I am as naught to thee;         Cruel Beloved, arise!Lovely and languid thou,Sleep still upon thy brow,         Dreams in thine eyes.From out thy garment flowsFragrance of many a rose—         Airs of delightCaught in the moonlit hoursLying among the flowers         Through the long night.Look on my face how pale!Will naught my love... more...

BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS AND OTHER VERSES 1889-1891TO 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... more...

THE RUINES OF TIME. DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND BEAUTIFULL LADIE, THE LA: MARIE, COUNTESSE OF PEMEBROOKE. Most honourable and bountifull Ladie, there bee long sithens deepe sowed in my brest the seede of most entire love and humble affection unto that most brave knight, your noble brother deceased; which, taking roote, began in his life time somewhat to bud forth, and to shew themselves to him, as... more...

Proem Where are they— the Afterwhiles—Luring us the lengthening milesOf our lives? Where is the dawnWith the dew across the lawnStroked with eager feet the farWay the hills and valleys are?Were the sun that smites the frownOf the eastward-gazer down?Where the rifted wreaths of mistO'er us, tinged with amethyst,Round the mountain's steep defiles?Where are the afterwhiles? Afterwhile— and... more...

Judging from a comparison of extant remains, and other means of information now available, it may be doubted whether any country has equalled Scotland in the number of its lyrics. By the term lyrics, I mean specifically poetical compositions, meant and suitable to be sung, with the musical measures to which they have been wedded. I include under the term, both the compositions themselves, and their... more...

CANTO I. I. LETTER FROM THE COMTESSE DE NEVERS TO LORD ALFRED VARGRAVE. "I hear from Bigorre you are there. I am toldYou are going to marry Miss Darcy. Of old,So long since you may have forgotten it now(When we parted as friends, soon mere strangers to grow),Your last words recorded a pledge—what you will—A promise—the time is now come to fulfil.The letters I ask you, my lord, to return,I... more...

INTRODUCTIONI callyou bad, my little child,Upon the title page,Because a manner rude and wildIs common at your age. The Moral of this priceless work(If rightly understood)Will make you—from a little Turk—Unnaturally good. Do not as evil children do,Who on the slightest groundsWill imitatethe Kangaroo,With wild unmeaning bounds: Do not as children badly bred,Who eat like little Hogs,And when they... more...

The source code for this HTML page contains only Latin-1 characters, but it directs the browser to display some special characters. The original work contained a few phrases or lines of Greek text. These are represented here as Greek letters, for example Οá¿–μοι. If the mouse is held still over such phrases, a transliteration in Beta-code pops up. Aside from Greek letters, the only... more...

POETRY FOR POETRY'S SAKE One who, after twenty years, is restored to the University where he was taught and first tried to teach, and who has received at the hands of his Alma Mater an honour of which he never dreamed, is tempted to speak both of himself and of her. But I remember that you have come to listen to my thoughts about a great subject, and not to my feelings about myself; and, of... more...