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Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New Selected for Boys and Girls - Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker
Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New Selected for Boys and Girls - Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker
Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New Selected for Boys and Girls - Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker
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Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New Selected for Boys and Girls - Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker

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Sara Teasdale's wonderful collection of children's poetry, “Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New”, was originally published in 1922. Exquisitely illustrated by the accomplished children's illustrator Dugald Stewart Walker, this charming volume is ideal for introducing children to poetry and is not to be missed by collectors. Dugald Stewart Walker was one of the most highly-celebrated American illustrators of children's books during the early twentieth century and are best remembered for the lavish, magical realm that they frequently described. He is perhaps best known for his contributions to “Fairy Tales from Hans Christian Andersen” (1914), but also illustrated books such as “The Boy who Knew what the Birds Said” and “Dream Boats and Other Stories”. Sara Teasdale (1884 – 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was inducted into the St. Louis Walk of Fame in 1994. The poems included in this book: “Kubla Khan”, “Meg Merrilies”, “Berries”, “Romance”, “Hymn of Pan”, “Written in March”, “When the Hounds of Spring”, “Song”, “Under the Greenwood Tree”, “To Violets”, “On May Morning”, “The Lepracaun”, “Hunting Song”, “The Lady of Shalott”, “Hymn to Diana”, and many more.

Pook Press celebrates the great ‘Golden Age of Illustration‘ in children’s classics and fairy tales – a period of unparalleled excellence in book illustration. We publish rare and vintage Golden Age illustrated books, in high-quality colour editions, so that the masterful artwork and story-telling can continue to delight both young and old.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherPook Press
Release dateFeb 22, 2018
ISBN9781528782791
Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New Selected for Boys and Girls - Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker
Author

Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933) was an American poet. Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Teasdale suffered from poor health as a child before entering school at the age of ten. In 1904, after graduating from Hosmer Hall, Teasdale joined the group of female artists known as The Potters, who published The Potter’s Wheel, a monthly literary and visual arts magazine, from 1904 to 1907. With her first two collections—Sonnets to Duse and Other Poems (1907) and Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911)—Teasdale earned a reputation as a gifted lyric poet from critics and readers alike. In 1916, following the publication of her bestselling Rivers to the Sea (1915), she moved to New York City with her husband Ernst Filsinger. There, she won the 1918 Pulitzer Prize for Love Songs (1917), her fourth collection. Frustrated with Filsinger’s prolonged absences while traveling for work, she divorced him in 1929 and moved to another apartment in the Upper West Side. Renewing her friendship with poet Vachel Lindsay, she continued to write and publish poems until her death by suicide in 1933.

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    Rainbow Gold - Poems Old and New Selected for Boys and Girls - Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker - Sara Teasdale

    KUBLA KHAN

    A Vision in a Dream

    IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan

    A stately pleasure-dome decree:

    Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

    Through caverns measureless to man

    Down to a sunless sea.

    So twice five miles of fertile ground

    With walls and towers were girdled round:

    And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills

    Where blossom’d many an incense-bearing tree;

    And here were forests ancient as the hills,

    Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

    But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

    Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

    A savage place! as holy and enchanted

    As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

    By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

    And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething

    As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

    A mighty fountain momently was forced:

    Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

    Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

    Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail;

    And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

    It flung up momently the sacred river.

    Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

    Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

    Then reach’d the caverns measureless to man,

    And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

    And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

    Ancestral voices prophesying war!

    The shadow of the dome of pleasure

    Floated midway on the waves;

    Where was heard the mingled measure

    From the fountain and the caves.

    It was a miracle of rare device,

    A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

    A damsel with a dulcimer

    In a vision once I saw:

    It was an Abyssinian maid,

    And on her dulcimer she played,

    Singing of Mount Abora.

    Could I revive within me

    Her symphony and song,

    To such a deep delight ’twould win me

    That with music loud and long,

    I would build that dome in air,

    That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!

    And all who heard should see them there

    And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

    His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

    Weave a circle round him thrice,

    And close your eyes with holy dread

    For he on honey-dew hath fed,

    And drunk the milk of Paradise.

    Samuel Taylor Coleridge

    MEG MERRILIES

    OLD Meg she was a Gipsy,

    And liv’d upon the Moors:

    Her bed it was the brown heath turf,

    And her house was out of doors.

    Her apples were swart blackberries,

    Her currants pods o’ broom;

    Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,

    Her book a churchyard tomb.

    Her Brothers were the craggy hills,

    Her Sisters larchen trees—

    Alone with her great family

    She liv’d as she did please.

    No breakfast had she many a morn,

    No dinner many a noon,

    And ’stead of supper she would stare

    Full hard against the Moon.

    But every morn of woodbine fresh

    She made her garlanding,

    And every night the dark glen Yew

    She wove, and she would sing.

    And with her fingers old and brown

    She plaited Mats o’ Rushes,

    And gave them to the Cottagers

    She met among the Bushes.

    Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen

    And tall as Amazon:

    An old red blanket cloak she wore;

    A chip hat had she

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