A Treasury of Great Poems
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This classic collection, long recognized as one of the most widely read and comprehensive anthologies of poetry in the English language, offers more than 1,300 pages containing nearly 1,000 poems by almost 200 poets. Beginning with the earliest English ballads and selections from the King James Version of the Bible, the book continues with the immortal works of Shakespeare, Donne, Milton, Pope, Whittier, Poe, Tennyson, and many others, concluding with an outstanding array of 20th-century poetry by such luminaries as Wallace Stevens, Dylan Thomas, and Marianne Moore. Louis Untermeyer--the renowned critic, biographer, and teacher who edited this remarkable work--is said to have introduced more poets to readers and more readers to poetry than any other American. Treasury of Great Poems is indexed by poet, poem and first lines.
transcended by nobility. The quent. first epistle to The The Greatest of These Though I speak with the And have not charity, I am become Or as tongues of sounding men and of angels, brass. a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, And understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; And though 1 have all faith. So that I could remove mountains. And have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my And though I give my body And have not charity, It
trewe; For on the morwe, as sone as it was day. To his felawes in he took the way; And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle. After his felawe he bigan to calle. The hostiler answered him anon. And seyde, "sire, your felawe is agon, As sone as day he wente out of the toun." This man gan fallen in suspecioun, Remembring on his dremes that he mette, And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he lette. Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond. That was arrayed in the
of spring in southern climes. Moreover, there is a tradition that birds choose mates on February 14. Thus a celibate the patron saint of lovers. their Roman priest becomes The Birds' Rondel Now welcome, summer, with thy sunshine soft. This wintry weather thou wilt overtake, And drive away the night so long and blackl Saint X'alentine, thou who art crowned aloft. The little birds are singing for thy sake: Now welcome, summer, with thy sunshine This wiyitry weather thou wilt overtake.
Is blacker than thy heel." said, The Popular Ballad /j^ John Steward took the little brown sword That hung low down by his knee; He has cut the head off And the body put on Childe Maurice a tree. And when he came to his ladyLooked over the castle-wall— He threw the head into her lap, Saying, "Lady, take the ball!" "Dost thou Says, know Childe Maurice' head. When that thou dost it see? Now lap it soft, and kiss it oft, For thou loved'st him better than me." But when she looked
Struggling his modesty, the half-apologetic, half-defiant cates that time has revised many differ to from— overcome compiler usually indi- that he has been chosen to re-estimate the past in terms of the critical present. He goes on to imply that his function revalue but to correct; that, that his ear mind is a little more is much though he admires forerunners, he deplores the errors in the therefore restored certain and of his predecessors' judgments poems work of to