CANTO THE FIRST.I.Ye shores of England, as ye fast recedeThe pain of parting rends my weary breast.I must regret—yet there is little needThat I should mourn, for only wild unrestIs mine while in my native land I roam.Thou gav'st me birth, but cannot give a home.II.Yet happy were the days that have been mine,So happy that those days must needs be few.It could not be that that bright sun would... more...

THE SONG OF THE FLAG. I.Up with the country's flag!And let the winds caress it, fold on fold,—A stainless flag, and glorious to behold!It is our honour's pledge;It is the token of a truth sublime,A thing to die for, and to wonder at,When, on the shuddering edgeOf some great storm, it waves its woven joy,Which no man shall destroy,In shine or shower, in peace or battle-time.Up with the... more...

I Dr. Howard Archie had just come up from a game of pool with the Jewish clothier and two traveling men who happened to be staying overnight in Moonstone. His offices were in the Duke Block, over the drug store. Larry, the doctor's man, had lit the overhead light in the waiting-room and the double student's lamp on the desk in the study. The isinglass sides of the hard-coal burner were aglow,... more...

THE SONG OF THE STONE WALL Come walk with me, and I will tellWhat I have read in this scroll of stone;I will spell out this writing on hill and meadow.It is a chronicle wrought by praying workmen,The forefathers of our nation—Leagues upon leagues of sealed history awaiting an interpreter.This is New England's tapestry of stoneAlive with memories that throb and quiverAt the core of the agesAs the... more...

The Sword Singing— The voice of the Sword from the heart of the Sword Clanging imperious Forth from Time’s battlements His ancient and triumphing Song. In the beginning,Ere God inspired HimselfInto the clay thingThumbed to His image,The vacant, the naked shellSoon to be Man:Thoughtful He pondered it,Prone there and impotent,Fragile, invitingAttack and discomfiture:Then, with a smile—As He heard... more...

A RIFT IN THE LUTE Everything else was in harmony. If the sky turquoise was a shade or two paler than the prescribed robin's-egg, it blended perfectly with the unpronounced greens of the sprouting grass and the uncertain olive of the budding sagebrush. On the crest of the distant divide a silver-gray wreath of aspens lay against the tawny cheek of the mountain as daintily as an otter-fur... more...

Foreword My young friend Dennis has honoured me with a request to write a preface to his book. I think a man can best write a preface to his own book, provided he knows it is good. Also if he knows it is bad. "The Sentimental Bloke", while running through the Bulletin, brightened up many dark days for me. He is more perfect than any alleged "larrikin" or Bottle-O character I have ever... more...

SONG THE FIRST. Up Riber’s street the dance they ply,   The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights most merrily,   For young King Erik Erikson. On Riber’s bridge the dance it goes,   The Castle’s won, the Castle’s won!There dance the knights in scollop’d shoes,   For young King Erik Erikson. ’Twas Riber Wolf the dance who led,   The Castle’s won, the... more...

THE LIFE OF PETRARCH. The family of Petrarch was originally of Florence, where his ancestors held employments of trust and honour. Garzo, his great-grandfather, was a notary universally respected for his integrity and judgment. Though he had never devoted himself exclusively to letters, his literary opinion was consulted by men of learning. He lived to be a hundred and four years old, and died, like... more...

CHAPTER I HOW THEY FIRST HEARD OF ATLANTIS Rain is responsible for a great deal more than the mere growth of vegetables—it is a controller, if a somewhat capricious controller, of man's destiny. It was mainly, if not entirely, owing to rain that the French lost the Battle of Agincourt; whilst, if I mistake not, Confucius alone knows how many victories have been snatched from the Chinese by the... more...