Stories and Poems for Extremely Intelligent Children of All Ages.

Selected by — Harold Bloom

Disclaimer: All rights belong to their respective owners. I do not own any of this content. This book is available in Amazon. You can also find a soft copy in google books, but lot of pages are removed for legal reasons.

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The Stag Looking into the Water by Aesop

A stag that had been drinking at a clear spring, saw himself in the water; and, pleased with the prospect, stood afterwards for some time contemplating and surveying his shape and features, from head to foot. “Ah!” says he, “what a glorious pair of branching horns are there! How gracefully do those antlers hang over my forehead, and give an agreeable turn to my whole face! If some or other parts of my body were but proportionate to them, I would turn my back to nobody! But I have a set of such legs as really makes me ashamed to see them. People may talk what they please of their conveniences, and what great need we stand in of them upon several occasions; but for my part I find them so very slender and unsightly, that I had as lief had none at all.”
While he was giving himself these airs, he was alarmed with the noise of some huntsmen and a pack of hounds, that had been just laid on upon the scent, and were making towards him. Away he flies in some consternation, and bounding nimbly over the plain, threw dogs and men at a vast distance behind him.
After which, taking a very thick copse, he had the ill luck to be entangled by his horns in a thicket, where he was held fast till the hounds came in, and pulled him down. Finding now how it was like to go with him, in the pangs of death he is said to have uttered these words: “Unhappy creature that I am! I am too late convinced, that what I prided myself in has been the cause of my undoing; and what I so much disliked, was the only thing that could have saved me.”

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The Mock Turtle’s Story by Lewis Carroll

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The Floating Old Man by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, “It is just as I feared! —
Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard.

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The Wood So Wild by Anonymous

I must go walk the wood so wild,
And wander here and there,
In dread and deadly fear;
For where I trusted Iam beguiled,
And all for one.
Thus am I banished from my bliss
By craft and false pretense,
Faultless without offence,
And of return no certainty is,
And all for love of one.
My bed shall be the Greenwood tree,
A tuft of brakes under my head,
As if one from joy were fled;
Thus from my life day by day I flee,
And all for one.
The running streams shall be my drink,
Acorns shall be my food.
Nothing may do me good,
But when of your beauty I do think,
And all for love of one.

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The Problem of Thor Bridge by Arthur Conan Doyle

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Wakefield by Nathanniel Hawthorne

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The Spring Lover and the Autumn Lover 
by Lafcadio Hearn

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Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti

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The Three Strangers by Thomas Hardy

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How Much Land Does a Man Need? by Leo Tolstoy

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Ali the Persian’s Story of the Kurd Sharper – The Arabian Nights by Anonymous

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A Leave-Taking by Algernon Charles Swinburne

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The Unquiet Grave by Anonymous

“The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true-love,
In cold grave she was lain.
“I’ll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.”
The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
“Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?”
“’T is I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.”
“You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.
“’T is down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that e’re was seen
Is withered to a stalk.
“The stalk is withered dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.”

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Autumn by John Clare

The thistledown’s flying, though the winds are all still,
On the green grass now lying, now mounting the hill,
The spring from the fountain now boils like a pot;
Through stones past the counting it bubbles red-hot.The ground parched and cracked is like overbaked bread,
The greensward all wracked is, bents dried up and dead.
The fallow fields glitter like water indeed,
And gossamers twitter, flung from weed unto weed.Hill-tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun,
And the rivers we’re eying burn to gold as they run;
Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air;
Whoever looks round sees Eternity there.

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“This is the Key of the Kingdom” by Anonymus

This is the Key of the Kingdom:
In that Kingdom is a city;
In that city is a town;
In that town is a street;
In that street there winds a lane;
In that lane there is a yard;
In that yard there is a house;
In that house there waits a room
In that room an empty bed;
And on that bed a basket —
A Basket of Sweet Flowers:
Of Flowers, of Flowers;
A basket of Sweet Flowers.Flowers in a Basket;
Basket on the bed;
Bed in the chamber;
Chamber in the house;
House in the weedy yard;
Yard in the winding lane;
Lane in the broad street;
Street in the high town;
Town in the city;
City in the Kingdom —
This is the Key of the Kingdom.
Of the Kingdom this is the Key.A knight and a lady
Went riding one day
Far into the forest,
Away, away.“Fair knight,” said the lady,
“I pray, have a care.
This forest is evil;
Beware, beware.”A fiery red dragon
They spied on the grass;
The lady wept sorely,
Alas! Alas!The knight slew the dragon,
The lady was gay,
They rode on together,

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The Dong with a Luminous Nose by Edward Lear

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“Weep You No More, Sad Fountains” by Anonymous

Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven’s sun doth gently waste.
But my sun’s heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lie sleeping
Softly, now softly lies
Sleeping.Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at even he sets?
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping
While she lies sleeping
Softly, now softly liesSleeping.

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“Will You Walk a Little Faster” by Lewis Carroll

“Will you walk a little faster?”
said a whiting to a snail.
“There’s a porpoise close behind us,
and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and
the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—
will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you,
will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you,
won’t you join the dance?“You can really have no notion how
delightful it will be,
When they take us up and throw us,
with the lobsters, out to sea!”
But the snail replied “Too far, too far!”
and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly,
but he would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not,
could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not,
could not, could not join the dance.“What matters it how far we go?”
his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know,
upon the other side.
The further off from England
the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail,
but come and join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you,
won’t you, won’t you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you,
won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”

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The Tow Pots by Aesop

Two Pots, one of brass and the other of clay, stood together on the hearthstone. One day the Brass Pot proposed to the Earthen Pot that they go out into the world together. But the Earthen Pot excused himself, saying that it would be wiser for him to stay in the corner by the fire.“It would take so little to break me,” he said. “You know how fragile I am. The least shock is sure to shatter me!”“Don’t let that keep you at home,” urged the Brass Pot. “I shall take very good care of you. If we should happen to meet anything hard I will step between and save you.”So the Earthen Pot at last consented, and the two set out side by side, jolting along on three stubby legs first to this side, then to that, and bumping into each other at every step.The Earthen Pot could not survive that sort of companionship very long. They had not gone ten paces before the Earthen Pot cracked, and at the next jolt he flew into a thousand pieces.

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Feathertop by Nathaniel Hawthorne

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The Recessional by Saki

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“I loved a Lass” by George Wither

I LOVED a lass, a fair one,
As fair as e’er was seen;
She was indeed a rare one,
Another Sheba Queen:
But, fool as then I was,
I thought she loved me too:
But now, alas!
she ‘s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
Her hair like gold did glister,
Each eye was like a star,She did surpass her sister,
Which pass’d all others far;
She would me honey call,
She’d—O she’d kiss me too!
But now, alas! she ‘s left me,Falero, lero, loo!
Many a merry meeting
My love and I have had;
She was my only sweeting,
She made my heart full glad;
The tears stood in her eyes
Like to the morning dew:
But now, alas! she ‘s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
Her cheeks were like the cherry, Her skin was white as snow;
When she was blithe and merry
She angel-like did show;
Her waist exceeding small,
The fives did fit her shoe: But now, alas! she ‘s left me,
Falero, lero, loo!
In summer time or winter
She had her heart’s desire;
I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire;
The world went round about,
No cares we ever knew:
But now, alas! she ‘s left me,
Falero, lero, loo! To maidens’ vows and swearing
Henceforth no credit give;
You may give them the hearing,
But never them believe;
They are as false as fair,Unconstant, frail, untrue:
For mine, alas! hath left me,
Falero, lero, loo!

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“The Splendor Falls on Castle Walls” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugles; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

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“So We’ll GO NO More a-Roving” 
by George Gordon, Lord Byron

So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.

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The Dalliance of the Eagles by Walt Whitman

Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,)
Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles,
The rushing amorous contact high in space together,
The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel,
Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling,
In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling,
Till o’er the river pois’d, the twain yet one, a moment’s lull,
A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing,
Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate diverse
flight,
She hers, he his, pursuing.

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November by Robert Bridges

The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled
Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun
Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed;
The short days pass unwelcomed one by one.

— Out by the ricks the mantled engine stands
Crestfallen, deserted, — for now all hands
Are told to the plough, — and ere it is dawn appear
The teams following and crossing far and near,
As hour by hour they broaden the brown bands
Of the striped fields; and behind them firk and prance
The heavy rooks, and daws grey-pated dance:
As awhile, surmounting a crest, in sharp outline
(A miniature of toil, a gem’s design,)
They are pictured, horses and men, or now near by
Above the lane they shout lifting the share,
By the trim hedgerow bloom’d with purple air;
Where, under the thorns, dead leaves in huddle lie
Packed by the gales of Autumn, and in and out
The small wrens glide
With a happy note of cheer,
And yellow amorets flutter above and about,
Gay, familiar in fear.

— And now, if the night shall be cold, across the sky
Linnets and twites, in small flocks helter-skelter,
All the afternoon to the gardens fly,
From thistle-pastures hurrying to gain the shelter
Of American rhododendron or cherry-laurel:
And here and there, near chilly setting of sun,
In an isolated tree a congregation
Of starlings chatter and chide,
Thickset as summer leaves, in garrulous quarrel:
Suddenly they hush as one, —
The tree top springs, —
And off, with a whirr of wings,
They fly by the score
To the holly-thicket, and there with myriads more
Dispute for the roosts; and from the unseen nation
A babel of tongues, like running water unceasing,
Makes live the wood, the flocking cries increasing,
Wrangling discordantly, incessantly,
While falls the night on them self-occupied;
The long dark night, that lengthens slow,
Deepening with Winter to starve grass and tree,
And soon to bury in snow
The Earth, that, sleeping ‘neath her frozen stole,
Shall dream a dream crept from the sunless pole
Of how her end shall be.

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Drinking Song by John Still

Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough.
Whether it be new or old.I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.I love no roast but a nut-brown toast
And a crab laid in the fire.
A little bread shall do me stead:
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would;
I am so wrapt, and thoroughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, &c.
[15]
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek:
Then doth she trowl to me the bowl
Even as a malt-worm should:
And saith, sweet heart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, &c.Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to;
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustly troll’d.
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, &c.

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Love Will Find Out the Way by Anonymous

Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey,
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.

When there is no place
For the glow-worm to lie,
When there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
When the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay,
If Love come, he will enter
And will find out the way.

You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
A coward for his flight;
But if she whom Love doth honour
Be conceal’d from the day-
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him
By having him confined;
And some do suppose him,
Poor heart! to be blind;
But if ne’er so close ye wall him,
Do the best that ye may,
Blind Love, if so ye call him,
He will find out his way.

You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist;
Or you may inveigle
The Phoenix of the east;
The lioness, you may move her
To give over her prey;
But you’ll ne’er stop a lover-
He will find out the way.

If the earth it should part him,
He would gallop it o’er;
If the seas should o’erthwart him,
He would swim to the shore;
Should his Love become a swallow,
Through the air to stray,
Love will lend wings to follow,
And will find out the way.

There is no striving
To cross his intent;
There is no contriving
His plots to prevent;
But if once the message greet him
That his True Love doth stay,
If Death should come and meet him,
Love will find out the way!

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My Cat Jeoffrey by Christopher Smart

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The White Island by Robert Herrick

In this world, the isle of dreams,
While we sit by sorrow’s streams,
Tears and terrors are our themes
Reciting:But when once from hence we fly,
More and more approaching nigh
Unto young eternity,
Uniting:In that whiter island,
whereThings are evermore sincere;
Candor here and luster there
Delighting:There no monstrous fancies shall
Out of hell an horror call,
To create, or cause at all,
Affrighting.There, in calm and cooling sleep
We our eyes shall never steep,
But eternal watch shall keep,
AttendingPleasures, such as shall pursue
Me immortalized, and you;
And fresh joys, as never too
Have ending.

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Death and Cupid by Aesop

CUPID, one sultry summer’s noon, tired with play, and faint with heat, went into a coll [cool] grotto to repose himself, which happened to be the cave of Death. He threw himself carelessly down on the floor, and his quiver turning topsy-turvy, all the arrows fell out, and mingled with those of Death, which lay scattered up and down the place. When he awoke, he gathered them up, as well as he could; but they were so intermingled, that though he knew the certain number, he could not rightly distinguish them; from which it happened, that he took up some of the arrows which belonged to Death, and left several of his own in the room of them. This is the cause that we, now and then, see the hearts of the old and decrepid transfixed with the bolts of love; and with equal grief and surprise, behold the youthful, blooming part of our species smitten with the darts of Death.

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“Who has Seen the Wind?” by Christin Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.