EROS The sense of the world is short,—Long and various the report,—To love and be beloved;Men and gods have not outlearned it;And, how oft soe'er they've turned it,'Tis not to be improved. Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882] "NOW WHAT IS LOVE" "NOW WHAT IS LOVE" Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?It is that fountain and that wellWhere pleasure and repentance dwell;It is, perhaps, the sauncing bellThat tolls all into heaven... more...

MAY. O love, this morn when the sweet nightingaleHad so long finished all he had to say,That thou hadst slept, and sleep had told his tale;And midst a peaceful dream had stolen awayIn fragrant dawning of the first of May,Didst thou see aught? didst thou hear voices singEre to the risen sun the bells 'gan ring?For then methought the Lord of Love went byTo take possession of his flowery throne,Ringed round with maids, and youths, and... more...

There was a little woman,As I have heard tell,She went to market,Her Eggs for to sell.   She went to Market,All on a Market day,And she fell asleep,On the King’s highway.   By came a Pedlar,His name it was Stout,And he cut her petticoats,All round about.   He cut her PetticoatsUp to her knees,Which made the little womanBegan for to freeze.   When this little woman,Began to awake,She began to shiver,And she began... more...

BEARPAWS NATHAN ZEBRATAIL There was once a boy named Nathan Green.He was never rude and never mean.But everyone was scared of him,Nancy, Dennis, Tom and Tim.Nick and Susan, Mike and James,Never let him play their games.He knew why, but didn’t say.His mom said he was born that way.Nathan’s hands aren’t hands at all.They’re bigger than a basketball.They’re covered brown by furry hair,Just like paws on any bear.Nathan... more...

In these days when the old civilisation is crumbling beneath our feet, the thought of poetry crosses the mind like the dear memory of things that have long since passed away. In our passionate desire for the new era, it is difficult to refrain oneself from the commonplace practice of speculating on the effects of warfare and of prophesying all manner of novel rebirths. But it may be well for us to remember that the era which has recently closed... more...

I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kinds, noting the essential quality of each; to inquire into the structure of the plot as requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of which a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within the same inquiry. Following, then, the order of nature, let us begin with the principles which come first. Epic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also and Dithyrambic:... more...

BOOK FIRST THE COMING OF AENEAS TO CARTHAGE I sing of arms and the man who of old from the coasts of Troy came, an exile of fate, to Italy and the shore of Lavinium; hard driven on land and on the deep by the violence of heaven, for cruel Juno's unforgetful anger, and hard bestead in war also, ere he might found a city and carry his gods into Latium; from whom is the Latin race, the lords of Alba, and the stately city Rome. Muse, tell me why,... more...

Foreword I've tinkered at my bits of rhymesIn weary, woeful, waiting times;In doleful hours of battle-din,Ere yet they brought the wounded in;Through vigils of the fateful night,In lousy barns by candle-light;In dug-outs, sagging and aflood,On stretchers stiff and bleared with blood;By ragged grove, by ruined road,By hearths accurst where Love abode;By broken altars, blackened shrinesI've tinkered at my bits of rhymes.I've solaced me with scraps... more...

Romance I When I go forth to greet the glad-faced Spring,Just at the time of opening apple-buds,When brooks are laughing, winds are whispering,On babbling hillsides or in warbling woods,There is an unseen presence that eludes:—Perhaps a Dryad, in whose tresses clingThe loamy odors of old solitudes,Who, from her beechen doorway, calls; and leadsMy soul to follow; now with dimpling wordsOf leaves; and now with syllables of birds;While here... more...

Lord Roehampton   During a late election LordRoehampton strained a vocal chordFrom shouting, very loud and high,To lots and lots of people whyThe Budget in his own opin--Ion should not be allowed to win. He   sought a Specialist, who said:"You have a swelling in the head:Your Larynx is a thought relaxedAnd you are greatly over-taxed." "I am indeed! On every side!"The Earl (for such he was) replied   In hoarse excitement....... more...