Among the Poets: A Choice Selection of the Best Poems by the Best Authors

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J.A. Ruth, 1882 - 336 pages
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Page 113 - BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall-stair, Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair.
Page 213 - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
Page 226 - Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar Which the same I am free to maintain.
Page 212 - You know, we French stormed Ratisbon : A mile or so away On a little mound, Napoleon Stood on our storming-day ; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind. ii Just as perhaps he mused " My plans " That soar, to earth may fall, " Let once my army-leader Lannes
Page 258 - Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. is 249 The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.
Page 93 - He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well,
Page 217 - I die, my friend," quoth I, And "Exactly so," quoth he. 'Says he, "Dear JAMES, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook me, While I can and will cook you...
Page 95 - She clad herself in a russet gown, She was no longer Lady Clare : She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair.
Page 218 - And he stirred it round and round and round And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And...
Page 255 - You needn't laugh, sir ; they were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures : I was one of your handsome men ! If you had seen her, so fair and young, Whose head was happy on this breast ! If you could have heard the songs I sung When the wine went round, you wouldn't...

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