Monday, October 31, 2016

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Vintage Books of Poetry for Sale

We were contacted by Diana Wilson, one of our followers who informed us that she has approximately 50 original-print hardback books of poetry, dating from the late 1800’s to the early 1900’s. She inherited this vintage collection, but sadly is unable to display them as she would like to. It would be such an injustice to see these precious volumes just sit and collect dust when someone would be able to genuinely appreciate them. 

Diana is seeking to sell them to a period book collector and/or poetry enthusiast, or for someone who is interested in purchasing the books to give as a gift. She kindly shared her contact number (865-804-4143) or you can email her at for serious inquiries and negotiations only. What a treasure trove for your library, a literary display in a museum or for historical archives.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Niagara Falls, poetry by Thomas Frederick Young

In celebration of the state of New York's 228th birthday, we're featuring a poem by Thomas Frederick Young about one of New York's beloved and iconic landmarks, Niagara Falls.

Niagara Falls
By Thomas Frederick Young

    Niagara, thou mighty flood.
    I've seen thee fall, I've heard thee roar,
    And on the frightful verges stood,
    That overhang thy rocky shore.

    I've sailed o'er surging waves below,
    And view'd the rainbow's colour'd light,
    And felt the spray, thy waters throw,
    When leaping, with resistless might.

    I've seen the rapids in their course,
    Like madden'd, living things rush on,
    With wild, unhesitating force,
    To where thy mighty chasms yawn.

    And there to take the awful leap,
    And fall, with hoarse and sullen roar,
    Into th' unfathomable deep,
    Which rolleth on, from shore to shore.

    Niagara, thou'rt mighty, grand,
    Thou fill'st human souls with awe,
    For thee, and for that mighty Hand,
    Which maketh thee, by nature's law.

    Thou'rt great, thou mighty, foaming mass
    Of water, plunging, roaring down,
    But so are we, yea, we surpass
    Thee, and we wear a nobler crown.

    Thy mighty head is crowned with foam,
    And rainbows wreathe thy robes of blue;
    Our earthly forms - our present home - 
    Are insignificant to you.

    But look, thou mighty thund'rer, thou,
    Tho' puny be our forms to thine,
    These forms possess, yea, even now,
    A spark, a ray of life divine.

    Rush on, O waters! proudly hurl
    Thyself to roaring depths below,
    And let the mists of ages curl,
    And generations come and go.

    But know, stupendous wonder, know,
    Thy rocks would crumble, at the nod
    Of Him, who lets thy waters flow;
    Thy Maker, but our Friend and God.

    Thy rocks shall crumble, fall they must;
    Thy waters, then, shall plunge no more,
    But we shall rise, e'en from the dust,
    To live upon another shore.

*This poem is found in public domain.