Canadian Rivers and Lakes, by James McIntyre
We have here a sight as fair
As bonnie Doon or...
Rose Poems
North-West Rebellion, 1885, by James McIntyre
Hail Canada our young fair land,
The world's ...
The Singing Leaves, by James Russell Lowell
“ What fairings will ye that I bring?&rdq...
Divided, by Jean Ingelow
I An empty sky, a world of heather,
Purple ...
Wishing, by Jean Ingelow
When I reflect how little I have done,
And ad...
Ah Who Should Make My Heart Despond?, by Jean Moréas
AH who should make my heart despond,
My heart...
Rebuking Juliet, by Jean Moréas
TO guard you from disaster,
Love-flags and st...
Voices Returning, by Jean Moréas
VOICES returning, cradle us, cradling voices:...
Kiss I, by Johannes Secundus
When young Ascanius, by the Queen of Love,
W...
Kiss XV, by Johannes Secundus
Th' Idalian boy, to pierce Neæ ra's hear...
Kiss XVII, by Johannes Secundus
Roses, refresh'd with nightly dew, display,
...
Kiss XIX, by Johannes Secundus
Why wing your flight, ye bees! From flow'r to ...
A White Rose, by John Boyle O'Reilly
The red rose whispers of passion,
And the whi...
To the Oregon Robin, by John Burroughs
KADIAK, July, 1899 O varied thrush! O robin ...
Ben-Ammi and the Fairies, by John Godfrey Saxe
A RABBINICAL TALE Once on a time a stranger ca...
How the Money Goes, by John Godfrey Saxe
How goes the Money?--Well,
I'm sure it isn't ...
How the Raven Became Black, by John Godfrey Saxe
There's a clever classic story,
Such as poets...
King Solomon and the Bees, by John Godfrey Saxe
A TALE OF THE TALMUD I When Solomon was reign...
Chicago, by John Greenleaf Whittier
THE GREAT CHICAGO FIRE: OCT. 8 TO OCT. 10, 187...
Anaxarete, by John Hooley
As the sun rose o'er sea-girt Salamis,
And in...
A Valentine, by John Hooley
Sweet, will you be my valentine?
And only min...
Young Mary, by John Imlah
Young Mary by the burn,
O lo'ed her o'er them...
Cards and Kisses, by John Lyly
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kiss...
Odyssey, by Joshua Elliott
1. Paperback Byron Walking on beauty
There yo...
The Ballade of Butterflies, by Joyce Kilmer
Because we never build a nest
And no one of us...