The chief American poets; selected poems by Bryant, Poe, Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Lowell, Whitman and Lanier ed., with notes, reference lists and biographical sketches

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1905 Excerpt: ...dogmatist, Thou pretty Katydid! Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--Old gentlefolks are they,--Thou say st an undisputed thing In such a solemn way. Thou art a female, Katydid! I know it by the trill That quivers through thy piercing notes, So petulant and shrill; I think there is a knot of you Beneath the hollow tree,--A knot of spinster Katydids,--Do Katydids drink tea? Oh, tell me where did Katy live, And what did Katy do? And was she very fair and young, And yet so wicked, too? so Did Katy love a naughty man, Or kiss more cheeks than one? I warrant Katy did no more Than many a Kate has done. Dear me! I '11 tell you all about My fuss with little Jane, And Ann, with whom I used to walk So often down the lane, And all that tore their locks of black, Or wet their eyes of blue,--30 Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid, What did poor Katy do? Ah no! the living oak shall crash, That stood for ages still, The rock shall rend its mqpsy base And thunder down the hill, Before the little Katydid Shall add one word, to tell The mystic story of the maid Whose name she knows so well. 40 Peace to the ever-murmuring race! And when the latest one Shall fold in death her feeble wings Beneath the autumn sun, Then shall she raise her fainting voice, And lift her drooping lid, And then the child of future years Shall hear what Katy did. 1831. L'lNCONNUE Is thy name Mary, maiden fair? Such should, methinks, its music be; The sweetest name that mortals bear Were best befitting thee; And she to whom it once was given, Was half of earth and half of heaven. I hear thy voice, I see thy smile, I look upon thy folded hair; Ah I while we dream not they beguile, Our hearts are in the snare; And she who chains a wild bird's wing Must start not if her captive sing. So, lady, take the leaf that f...