Poetic jewels

Preface

The poems contained in this volume have not been gathered at random. They have been carefully sought after, and selected from amongst the most admired poetry in the English language. In many instances the authors themselves have been consulted as to the selections to be made from their poems, and some of the most eminent poets have themselves selected their favorite poems for this collection.

It has been the aim of the editor in making up this volumxC to place in an accessible form, the rarest gems of English poetry.

" For this end I have risen early aiid sat up late, have traveled far and near, ransacking the most famous libraries, and all to furnish you this vtagazinc of the most excelle^it erudition."

E. T. R.

Poetic Jewels.

LIST OF POEMS.

A Ballad of Athlone ; or, How They Broke Down

the Bridge. Aubrey de Vere. - - - 35^

A Canadian Boat Song. Thomas Moore. - - 396

A Good, Great Name. Frances E. Willard. - - 269

Airy Visions. E. T. R. - - - - - 45

A Legend of Lake Superior. Edward R. Roe. - 245

A Legend of Transmigration. " " " - 280

A London Idyl. Robert Buchanan. - - - 130 Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene. M. G.

Annabel Lee. Edgar Allan Poe. - - - - 334

An Ode to the Rain. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. - 154 Antony in Arms. Robert Buchanan. - - -

A Psalm of Life. Henry W Longfellow. - - 272

A Song of Praises. Edward R. Roe. - - - 43

Auld Robin Gray. Lady Anne (Lindsay) Barnard. 39

Baby's Shoes. William C. Bennett. - - - 99

Balaklava. Alexander B. Meek. - - - - 352

Castles in Spain. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. - 87

Civil War, Anonymous. - - - - - 152

Come Rest in This Bosom. Thomas Moore. - - 171

Commodity. Shelley. - - - - - - 186

Cuddle Doon. Alexander Anderson. - - - ill viii LIST OF POEMS

PAGE.

Dead. Rev. Canon Bell. - - - - - 77

Dolores. Constance Fenimore Woolson. - - lOO

Eros Athanatos. Robert Buchanan. - ■ -66

Excelsior. Henry W. Longfellow, _ _ _ 238

Father's Growing Old, John! J. Q. A. Wood. - 366

Genesis. Edward R. Roe. ----- 288

God Knows. Benjamin F. Taylor. - - - 30

Hamlet and His Mother, William Shakespeare. - 258

Help the Poor, Victor Hugo. _ _ - _ 203

How Baby Came from Heaven. David Barker. - 23

How Good Are the Poor, Victor Hugo. - - 300

How to Become Consequential. Anonymous. - 153

If That High World. Lord Byron. - - - 108

Italy. William Cullen Bryant. - - - - 21

June. William Cullen Bryant. _ _ - - 267

Katydid. Peter Peppercorn. - - - - 51 Kubla Khan ; or, A Vision in a Dream. Samuel

Taylor Coleridge. ------ 360

Langley Lane. Robert Buchanan. _ - - 387

Master Johnny's Next-Door Neighbor, Bret Harte. 373

Maud and Madge; or, After the Ball. Nora Perry. 331

Mauna Loa. Edward R. Roe. - _ _ - 172

Measuring the Baby. Emma Alice Browne. - - 128

My Heart Leaps Up. William Wordsworth. - - 119

Not Yet. William Cullen Bryant, - - - 19

Now the Old Wife's Gone. Mary Frances Adams. - 73

LIST OF POEMS ix

PAGE.

Oft in the Stilly Night. Thomas Moore. - - 394

Only a Woman. Dinah Mariah Mulock. - - 84

Only the Brakesman. Constance FenimoreWoolson. 348

'Ostler Joe. George R. Sims. . . _ _ 340

Parting Lovers. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. - 33

Poetry of Ancient Burial. John Lloyd. - 299

Povertie's Counsel. W. S. Ridpath. - - - 386

Reuben and Rose. Thomas Moore. _ _ - 125

Sleep. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. - - - 28

Song of the Brave, Edward R. Roe. - - 229

Song of the Miser. Anonymous. - - 378

Steeple Folk. Augusta Earned. - - - - 80

Truth and Falsehood. Matthew Prior. - - 307 The Bachelor's Cane-bottomed Chair. W. M.

The Ballad of the Shamrock. Fitz James O'Brien. 167

The Battle of Pelusium. John Fletcher. - - 393

The Children's Hour. Henry W. Longfellow. - 256

The City of the Heart. T. Buchanan Read. - 114

The Coliseum. Lord Byron. - - - - I93

The Conflagration. Schiller. _ _ _ _ 346

The Cotter's Saturday Night. Robert Burns. - 143

The Days That Are No More. Alfred Tennyson. - 359

The Death of the Owd Squire. Anonymous. - 180 The Doncaster St. Leger. Sir Francis Hastings

The Founding of the Bell. Charles Mackay. - 242

The Frogs. Edward R. Roe. - _ - - 140

The Frost Spirit. John Greenleaf Whittier. - - 271

The Green Gnome. Robert Buchanan. - - 383

X LIST OF POEMS

VJlGBi.

The Harp of Fionbell. H. E. Hunter. - - 380

The Hollow Oak. E, Bulwer Lytton. - - - 172

The Ideal and the Real. Edward R. Roe. - - 328

The Immortal Pansies. Mrs. Marietta S. Case. - 395

The Knight and the Lady. Richard H. Barham. - 206

The Lady's Dream. Thomas Hood. - _ - 35

The Last Banquet. Edward Renaud. - - - 92

The Lost and Found. Hamilton Aide. - - 369

The Maiden's Armor. Milton. - . . _ 107

The Naked Truth. James Russell Lowell. - - 52

The Old Stager's Story. Edwin Coller. - 157

The Poor and Honest Sodger. Robert Burns. - 364

The Principal Rules of Oratory. Anonymous. - 65

The Problem of Eternity. Edward R. Roe. - - 117

The Raven. Edgar Allan Poe. - - - _ 274

The Shipwreck. Anonymous. - _ . _ 235

The Swallows. Jean Pierre Claris Florian. - - 252

The Two Armies. Oliver Wendell Holmes. - - 199

The Universal Prayer. Victor Hugo. - - - 318

The Victim. Alfred Tennyson. - - . . 1^5

The Young Avenger. L. E. L. - - - - 322

Those Evening Bells. Thomas Moore. - - 395

Thy Love Shall Lead Me. E. T. R. - - - 337

Two Lovers. George Eliot. _ _ - . 255

Waiting at the Gate. William Cullen Bryant. - 24

Weary. Anonymous. ----._ 357

William and Helen. Sir Walter Scott. - - - 55

Ye Needna' be Courtin' at Me. Peter Still. - - 1 13

You Kissed Me. ------_ 338

Young Man, Be Wise. John Stuart Blackie. - 362

LIST OF AUTHORS.

PAGE.

Adams, Mary Frances, - - _ _ _ 73

Aide, Hamilton, ------- 369

Anderson, Alexander, - - - - - -iii

Barham, Richard H,, -

Barker, David, _ _ _

Barnard, Lady Anne (Lindsay),

Bell, Rev. Canon,

- n

Bennett, W. C, -

Blackie, John Stuart,

Brown, Emma Alice, -

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett,

29, 33

Bryant, William CuUen,

- 19,21,24,267

Buchanan, Robert,

66, 130, 326,383, 3§7

Burns, Robert, - . .

- 143, 364

Byron, Lord, _ _ _

- 108, 193

Case, Mrs. Marietta S.,

Clark, Mary Bayard,

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, -

- 154. 360

Coller, Edwin, - _ .

DeVere, Aubrey, - - -

Doyle, Sir Francis Hastings, - xii LIST OF A UTHORS

PAGE.

Fletcher, John, - _ _ _ _ _ 393

Florian, Jean Pierre Claris, - - - - - 252

Earned, Augusta, -------80

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, - 87, 238, 255, 272

Lowell, James Russell, ------ 52

Lytton, E. Bulwer, - - - - - -172

Mackay, Charles, ------- 242

Meek, Alexander, _..__--. 352

O'Brien, Fitz James, ------ 167

Peppercorn, Peter, - - - -- -51

Prior, Matthew, ------- 307

Read, T. Buchanan, - - - - - -114

Renaud, Edward, -------92

LIST OF A UTHORS xiii

PAGE.

Schiller, _ . - 346

Scott, Sir Walter, - 55

Shakespeare, -_.---_ 258

Taylor, Benjamin F. . - - - - - - 30

Whittier, John G., - - - - - - 271

Willard, Frances E., ------ 269

Woolson, Constance Fenimore, - - _ 100, 348

Wordsworth, William, - - - - - - 119

LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.

PAGE.

Portrait of William Cullen Bryant, - - - - 17

Autograph Letter of William Cullen Bryant, - - 18

Waiting at the Gate, ------ 25

" Ay, the Petty Troubles of a Woman's Life," - 75

Castles in Spain, ------ - 89

Dolores, -_-_--_- loi The Maiden's Aimor, - - - - - -109

"Two Days She Wandered," _ - - . 123 The Cotter's Saturday Night, - - _ - 145 " Thither Came, when I was Young, Happy Children Trooping," ------ 173

Help the Poor, - - - - - - 201

" Did //(? Love More than 7," - - - - 211

" Twice Twenty Years for Him I Tilled the Soil," - 227

The Swallows, - - - - - - -253

" Twere Pleasant that in Fiowery June," - - 265

" And She Was Beautiful, and I Was Young," - 283 " And They Will Learn to Climb My Knee at

" Oh, Happy Worship ! Ever Gay with Smiles," - 319

" / Was a Child, and S/ie Was a Child," - - 335

•' The Battle Totters; Now the Wounds Begin," - 391

Be thiou. the first true merit to befriend; His praise is lost, who stays till all commend. Short is the date, alas, of modern rhymes. And 'tis but just to let them live betimes.

Pope.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

NOT YET.

H country, marvel of the earth!

Oh realm to sudden greatness grown! The age that gloried in thy birth,

Shall it behold thee overthrown?

Shall traitors lay that greatness loiv?

No, land of Hope and Blessing, No!

And we, who wear thy glorious name. Shall we, like cravens, stand apart,

When those whom thou hast trusted aim The death-blow at thy generous heart?

Forth goes the battle-cry, and lo ! Hosts rise in harness, shouting. No.

And they who founded in our land. The power that rules from sea to sea,

Bled they in vain, or vainly planned To leave their country great or free?

Their sleeping ashes, from below. Send up the thrilling murmur, No!

Knit they the gentle ties which long These sister States were proud to wear.

And forged the kindly links so strong For idle hands in sport to tear?

For scornful hands aside to throw? No, by our fathers' memory. No!

Our humming marts, our iron ways,

Our wind-tossed woods on mountain crest,

The hoarse Atlantic, with its bays, The calm, broad ocean of the West,

And Mississippi's torrent-flow.

The loud Niagara, answer, No!

Not yet the hour is nigh when they Who deep in Eld's dim twilight sit.

Earth's ancient kings, shall rise and say, " Proud country, welcome to the pit!

So soon art thou, like us, brought low! " No, ^uUen group of shadows. No!

For now, behold the arm that gave

The victory in our fathers' day.

Strong, as of old, to guard and save —

That mighty arm which none can stay -- On clouds above and fields below.

Writes, in men's sight, the answer, No!

William Cullen Bryant.

ITALY.

OICES from the mountains speak; Apennines to Alps reply; Vale to vale and peak to peak Toss an old remembered cry; Italy

Shall be free; Such the mighty shout that fills All the passes of her hills.

All the old Italian lakes

Quiver at that quickening word; Como with a thrill awakes; Garda to her depths is stirred; Mid the steeps Where he sleeps, Dreaming of the elder years.

Startled Thrasymenus hears.

Murmur freedom to their meads.

Tiber swift and Liris slow Send strange whispers from their reeds. Italy

Shall be free, Sing the glittering brooks that slide. Toward the sea, from Etna's side.

Monarchs! ye whose armies stand

Harnessed for the battle-field!

Pause, and from the lifted hand Drop the bolts of war ye wield.

Stand aloof While the proof Of the people's might is given; Leave their kings to them and Heaven

Long ago was Gracchus slain;

Brutus perished long ago; Yet the living roots remain

Whence the shoots of greatness grow. Yet again, God-like men, Sprung from that heroic stem, Call the land to rise with them.

They who haunt the swarming street.

They who chase the mountain boar. Or where cliff and billow meet, Prune the vine or pull the oar.

With a stroke Break their yoke; Slaves but yestereve were they — Freemen with the dawning day.

Looking in his children's eyes,

While his own with gladness flash, " These," the Umbrian father cries, " Ne'er shall crouch beneath the lash! These shall ne'er Brook to wear

Chains whose cruel links are twined Round the crushed and withering mind." Stand aloof, and see the oppressed

Chase the oppressor, pale with fear, As the fresh winds of the west Blow the misty valleys clear.

Stand and see Italy Cast the gyves she wears no more To the gulfs that steep her shore.

Wm. Cullen Bryant.

HOW BABY CAME FROM HEAVEN.

One night, as old Saint Peter slept.

He left the door of Heaven ajar When through a little angel crept,

And came down with a falling star.

One summer, as the blessed beams

Of morn approached, my blushing bride

Awakened from some pleasing dreams. And found that angel by her side.

God grant but this — I ask no more^ — That when he leaves this world of sin,

He'll wing his way to that blest shore, And find the door of Heaven again.

David Barker^

WAITING BY THE GATE.

RESIDE a massive gateway, built up in years gone by, 'Upon whose top the clouds in eternal shadow lie, While streams the evening sunshine on quiet wood and lea, I stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me.

The tree-tops faintly rustle beneath the breeze's flight, A soft and soothing sound, yet it whispers of the night; I hear the woodthrush piping one mellow descant more, And scent the flowers that blow when the heat of day is o'er.

Behold the portals open, and o'er the threshold now There steps a weary one with a pale and furrowed brow; His count of years is full, his allotted task is wrought; He passes to his rest from a place that needs him not.

In sadness then I ponder how quickly fleets the hour Of human strength and action, man's courage and his

power.

I muse while still the woodthrush sings down the golden

day.

And as I look and listen the sadness wears away.

Again the hinges turn, and a youth, departing, throws A longing look backward, and sorrowfully goes; A blooming maid, unbinding the roses from her hair. Moves mournfully away from amidst the young and fair.

Oh glory of our race that so suddenly decays!

Oh crimson flush of morning that darkens as we gaze!

Waiting at the Gate.

Oh breath of summer blossoms that on the restless air Scatters a moment's sweetness and flies we know not where.

I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then

withdrawn; But still the sun shines round me: the evening birds sing

on, And I again am soothed, and, beside the ancient gate, In this soft evening sunlight, I calmly stand and wait.

Once more the gates are opened; an infant group go out. The sweet smile quenched forever, and stilled the sprightly

shout.

Oh frail, frail tree of Life, that upon the greensward

strows Its fair young buds unopened, with every wind that blows!

So come from every region, so enter, side by side,

The strong and faint of spirit, the meek and men of pride.

Steps of earth's great and mighty, between those pillars

gray, And prints of little feet, mark the dust along the way.

And some approach the threshold whose looks are blank

with fear, And some whose temples brighten with joy in drawing

near, As if they saw dear faces, and caught the gracious eye Of Him, the sinless Teacher, who came for us to die.

I mark the joy, the terror; yet these, within my heart. Can neither wake the dread nor the longing to depart; And, in the sunshine streaming on quiet wood and lea, I stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me.

William Cullen Bryant.

SLEEP.

F all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward unto souls afar, ^ Among the Psalmist's music deep, Now tell me if that any is For gift or grace surpassing this: " He giveth his beloved sleep "?

What would we give to our beloved? The hero's heart, to be unmoved; The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep; The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse; The monarch's crown, to light the brows? " He giveth his beloved sleep."

What do we give to our beloved?

A little faith, all undisproved;

A little dust, to over weep;

And bitter memories, to make

The whole earth blasted for our sake. —

" He giveth his beloved sleep."

" Sleep soft, beloved ! " we sometimes say.

But have no tune to charm away

Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep;

But never doleful dream again

Shall break the happy slumber when

" He giveth his beloved sleep."

O earth, so full of dreary noise! O men, with wailing in your voice! O delved gold the wallers heap!

O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! God strikes a silence through you all.

And " giveth his beloved sleep."

His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still. Though on its slope men sow and reap; More softly than the dew is shed. Or cloud is floated overhead, " He giveth his beloved sleep,"

For me, my heart, that erst did go

Most like a tired child at a show.

That sees through tears the mummers leap.

Would now its wearied vision close.

Would childlike on His love repose,

" Who giveth his beloved sleep."

Elizabeth Barrett Browjiing-.

o

" GOD KNOWS."

[An emigrant ship recently foundered in a storm, and of the 220 who went down, only one — a little child — drifted ashore. When the waif was laid at rest from her troubled baptism, somebody asked the question, " What name ? " and the reply was, " God knows." A gentleman present, touched by the words, caused a headstone to be erected bearing only this : " GoD Knows. "]

I. N emigrant ship with a world aboard

No tatter of bunting at half-mast lowered, 'Went down by the head on the Kentish coast, No cannon to toll for the creatures lost. Two hundred and twenty their souls let slip, Two hundred and twenty, with speechless lip, Went staggering down in the foundered ship!

II

Nobody can tell it — not you nor I,

The frenzy of fright when lightning thought

Wove like a shuttle the far and the nigh.

Shot quivering gleams through the long forgot,

And lighted the years with a ghastly glare,

A second a year, and a second to spare!

'Mid surges of water and gasps of prayer.

III

The heavens were doom, and the Lord was dumb, The cloud and the breaker were blent in one.

No angel in sight — not any to come!

God pardon their sins for the Christ His Son!

The tempest died down as the tempest will,

The sea in a rivulet drowse lay still, po:etig jewels 31

As tame as the moon on the window-sill, The roses were red on the rugged hill — The roses that blow in the early light, And die into gray in the mists of night.

IV. Then drifted ashore, in a night-gown dressed

A waif of a girl with her sanded hair. And hands like a prayer on her cold blue breast,

And a smile on her mouth that was not despair. No stitch on the garment ever to tell Who bore her, who lost her, who loved her well, •Unnamed as a rose — was it Norah or Nell?

V. The coasters and wreckers around her stood

And gazed on the treasure-trove upward cast. As round a dead robin the sturdy wood.

Its plumage all rent and the whirlwind past. They laid a white cross on her home-made vest, The coffin was rude as a red-breast's nest, And poor was the shroud, but a perfect rest Fell down on the child like dew on the West.

VI. A ripple of sod just covered her over

Nobody to bid her " Good-night, my bird! " Spring waited to weave a quilt of red clover,

Nobody alive had her pet name heard. " What name? "asked the preacher. " GOD KNOWS ! "

they said.

Nor waited nor wept as they made her bed. But sculptured " GOD Knows!" on the slate at her head.