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...

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...

1 STRAY birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh. 2 O TROUPE of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words. 3 THE world puts off its mask of vastness to its lover. It becomes small as one song, as one kiss of the eternal. 4 IT is the tears of the earth that keep her smiles in bloom. 5 THE mighty desert is... 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...

Though flattered by imitators galore Miss Potter's work stands supreme. Her many picture stories should be among the first books owned by children.     Cecily Parsley lived in a pen,And brewed good ale for gentlemen;   Gentlemen came every day,Till Cecily Parsley ran away.   Goosey, goosey, gander,Whither will you wander?Upstairs and downstairs,And in my lady's chamber!   This pig went to market;This... more...

"Come Jane," said grandmamma one day, "'Tis time you learned to sew; At your age I could make a frock, And you should also know." But Jane cared little for such things; She liked to make a noise; She used to run about all day, And shout, and play with boys.   So now she only tossed her head And ran with eager feet, And soon was racing up and down, And playing in the street. Once Jane was to a party asked; Her friends... more...

Good people all,with one accord, Lament forMadam Blaize, Who never wanteda good word— From those who spoke her praise.   The needy seldom pass’d her door,And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor— Who left a pledge behind.   She strove the neighbourhood to pleaseWith manners wondrous winning; And never follow’d... more...