Charles Kingsley was an English priest of the Church of England, university professor, historian and novelist, particularly associated with the West Country and northeast Hampshire.
Life and character
Kingsley was born in Holne, Devon, the second son of the Reverend Charles Kingsley and his wife Mary. His brother, Henry Kingsley, also became a novelist. He spent his childhood in Clovelly, Devon and Barnack, Northamptonshire and was educated at Helston Grammar School before studying at King's College London, and the University of Cambridge. Charles entered Magdalene College, Cambridge in 1838, and graduated in 1842. He chose to pursue a ministry in the church. From 1844,... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Charles Kingsley Poems
I My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey:
Young and Old
1 When all the world is young, lad, 2 And all the trees are green; 3 And every goose a swan, lad, 4 And every lass a queen;
The Sands of Dee
1 "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, 2 And call the cattle home, 3 And call the cattle home 4 Across the sands of Dee";
See the land, her Easter keeping, Rises as her Maker rose. Seeds, so long in darkness sleeping, Burst at last from winter snows.
The Three Fishers
1 Three fishers went sailing away to the west, 2 Away to the west as the sun went down; 3 Each thought on the woman who loved him the best, 4 And the children stood watching them out of the town;
“ARE you ready for your steeplechase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree? Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. You’re booked to ride your capping race to-day at Coulterlee, You’re booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see,
A Farewell: To C.E.G
My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray; Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I'll leave you, For every day.
Ode to the Northeast Wind
Welcome, wild Northeaster! Shame it is to see Odes to every zephyr; Ne'er a verse to thee.
My Little Doll
I once had a sweet little doll, dears, The prettiest doll in the world; Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,
A FLOATING, a floating Across the sleeping sea, All night I heard a singing bird Upon the topmast tree.
Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; Oh, the pleasant sight to see Shires and towns from Airly Beacon, While my love climbed up to me!
The Tide River
Clear and cool, clear and cool, By laughing shallow and dreaming pool; Cool and clear, cool and clear, By shining shingle and foaming weir;
Ballad of Earl Haldan's Daughter
It was Earl Haldan's daughter, She looked across the sea; She looked across the water;
A Christmas Carol
It chanced upon the merry merry Christmas eve, I went sighing past the church across the moorland dreary-
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey:
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever
One grand, sweet song.