Poetry

Lines Read at a Dairyman's Supper By  James McIntyre It almost now seems all in vain For to expect high price for grain, Wheat is grown on Egypti…

Fertile Lands and Great Cheese By  James McIntyre In barren district you may meet Small fertile spot doth grow fine wheat, There you may find the cho…

Summer is Come By  Gilbert Parker Summer is come; the corn is in the ear,     The haze is swimming where the beeches stand; Summer is come, though wi…

Mary Callaghan and Me By  Gilbert Parker It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on;     Oh, the bells was ringin’ gaily, and the sun was…

Willow-Pipes By  Duncan Campbell Scott So in the shadow by the nimble flood He made her whistles of the willow wood, Flutes of one note with mellow s…

At Les Éboulements (1) To M. E. S. By  Duncan Campbell Scott The bay is set with ashy sails,     With purple shades that fade and flee, And curling b…

The Deep-Sea Cables By  Rudyard Kipling The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar —  Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where t…

The Butterfly that Stamped By  Rudyard Kipling There was never a Queen like Balkis,     From here to the wide world's end; But Balkis talked to a…

The Love Song of Har Dyal By  Rudyard Kipling Alone upon the housetops to the North I turn and watch the lightning in the sky —  The glamour of thy f…

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi By  Rudyard Kipling At the hole where he went in Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. Hear what little Red-Eye saith: 'Nag, come up a…

The Miracle of Purun Bhagat By  Rudyard Kipling The night we felt the earth would move     We stole and plucked him by the hand, Because we loved him…

The Frozen Brook By  Frank Oliver Call The winter woods lie gray and still     Beneath the dreary sunless skies, The brook that rippled down the hill…

The Ships of Memory By  Frank Oliver Call The silent ships of memory creep     Across the seas of long ago; Like phantoms, on a tideless deep,     Th…

Before an Altar (After Gneudecourt) By  Edwin John Dove Pratt Break we the bread once more,     The cup we pass around —  No, rather let us pour     …

The Flood Tide By  Edwin John Dove Pratt He paused a moment by the sea,     Then stooped, and with a leisured hand He wrote in casual tracery     Her…

Dairy Sketches By  James McIntyre In vale of Thames oft' times are seen The cattle graze 'mong sweetest green, Or there contented with their …