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For centuries England has always had a leading and admired reputation for its poets and poetry. In this volume we explore those born in the East Midlands who created such revered, enduring and respected verse.

In the war a great volume of poetry was written, produced and published in books, periodicals, newspapers or letters back to home. We often think of war as a necessity. We fight for a more just and better world. We often fail. But in our poets we gain a truth and a morality that shocks us, consoles us and holds our values to the light. In this volume we hear poems from the front, from home, from soldiers, from auxiliaries, from friend and from foe.

Victoria’s reign was long and presided over the restless expansion of the British Empire and reams of creative genius. Within these volumes we can bring only a glimpse of the richness, beauty and words of their poets and their musings on this remarkable age. Many are world renowned - Tennyson, Browning, Arnold, Kipling, Austin, Hopkins, Hardy and Swinburne. Some almost forgotten - Patmore, Newbolt, Synge. And some are barely noted - Lyall, Meynell and Merdeith. But together they encompass a great poetical age.

Henri René Albert Guy de Maupassant was born on August 5th, 1850, near Dieppe in France. In 1880 he published what is considered his first great work, ‘Boule de Suif’, (translated as as ‘Dumpling’, ‘Butterball’, ‘Ball of Fat’, or ‘Ball of Lard’), which met with a success that was both instant and overwhelming. Flaubert at once acknowledged that it was ‘a masterpiece that will endure.’ Maupassant had used his talents and experiences in the war to create something unique.

In this series we look at short stories from many of our most accomplished writers. Miniature masterpieces with a lot to say. In this volume we examine some of the short stories of Virginia Woolf. Adeline Virginia Woolf was born in 1882 and was to become a founder of modernist writing. Her background is filled with elements of tragedy that she somehow overcame to become a revered writer. Her mother died when she was 13, her half sister Stella two years later and with that came her first of several nervous breakdowns.

Philip Edward Thomas was born on 3rd March 1878 at 14 Lansdowne Gardens in Stockwell, Lambeth, which was then a part of Surrey. His family had a rich Welsh heritage. Thomas was educated at Battersea Grammar School before proceeding to St Paul's School in London and then becoming a history scholar, between 1898-1900, at Lincoln College, Oxford. Whilst still studying for his degree he married Helen Berenice Noble in June 1899, in Fulham, London.

With classics such as ‘My Last Duchess’ and ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’ Robert Browning’s status as one of the great Victorian poets will always be secure in popular culture, while for the more literary he is considered a master of dramatic verse and dramatic monologues. It is interesting to note that his career bloomed late. Indeed, it was only after the death of his wife Elizabeth in 1861 and his return to England from their life in Italy that his work came into wider acceptance and critical acclaim.

Rudyard Kipling. With our almost religious zeal to categorise and pigeon hole everything it should come as little surprise that one of the poems we learnt at school should so regularly be voted the best ever poem. Whether ‘If..’ deserves that credit or not is irrelevant to this empire wandering artist who was not only a fine story teller but a great poet of the Empires, its people and views.

Andrew Marvell was born in Winestead-in-Holderness, in the East Riding of Yorkshire on March 31st, 1621. He was educated at Hull Grammar School, and at the age of 13 he attended Trinity College, Cambridge, and eventually received his BA degree. It is thought that in 1642 Marvell travelled in Europe and, while England was embroiled in its civil war, remained there until 1647, mastering several languages including French, Italian and Spanish.

In this volume the English language reveals itself in a scale and depth that few others can compare with. It seems to be an advantage to be able to choose from over a million words and yet, it is not the words but the way in which they are used that resonate with us all. Is there some bond between the English and writing poetry? Maybe, maybe not, but let us celebrate these poems down the ages, not as one nation’s hoard but humanity’s gift.

The Poetry of Kissing. In many ways the title says it all. Kissing is Poetry. The kiss is perhaps the most loving and intimate moment there is. It is amongst our most soothing and treasured memories. This volume is not about the kiss of a mother’s to her child’s scraped knee, or the father to his baby’s head as he settles down to sleep. No, when the poets here talk of the kiss, they describe the longing and desire, the want and hunger to be part of something that so connects them to another.

Do men need poems? Is the gender of brawn and ‘can-do’ really a candidate for honeyed verse? Obviously yes. Through the centuries men seem to dominate the writing of poetry. From books of epics to quatrains of love poetry it seemed to be a man’s world. His domain. A volume purely for men, to show other facets of their personalities and characters seems to be an obvious choice. One verse fits all is, in fact, far removed from the truth. Men needs words. They need support, understanding as well as goals, ambition and structure. They need purpose, desire; the need to love and be loved.

Throughout the long centuries of human history is the want, and the need, to share information, to exchange ideas and for that knowledge and experience, for curiosity and learning, to be the basis of a civil society. In literature the ambition is much narrower. In order to be known, to be popular, you had to be published. And for that people had to know you existed and your ideas worth reading. Obviously for most of humanity's time people couldn't read and texts couldn't be published in any great number.

At this time of the year, as the nights close in and the temperature drops, winter seems like a season that nobody really enjoys, and we look forward all the more to spring. For many children, however, it is the bounty of Christmas that steals their attention, and for others the renewal of the New Year. But for Nature it is a pause for breath, to take stock of what has gone by in the year to date and ready herself for the energies and dramatic development to the landscape that spring will bring.

Benjamin 'Ben' Jonson was born in June 1572. A contemporary of William Shakespeare, he is best known for his satirical plays Volpone, The Alchemist, and Bartholomew Fair and his equally accomplished lyric poems. A man of vast reading and a seemingly insatiable appetite for controversy, including time in jail and a penchant for switching faiths, Jonson had an unparalleled breadth of influence on Jacobean and Caroline playwrights and poets.

William Wordsworth was born on the 7th of April, 1770 and is rightly regarded as a major English poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature. His words have been proffered by many a tongue around the world. They stir, they inspire they create lyrical pictures and feelings as few others can. Wordsworth's was also Britain's Poet Laureate from his appointment by Queen Victoria in 1843 until his death in on the 23rd of April 1850.

For centuries England has always had a leading and admired reputation for its poets and poetry. In this volume we explore those born in the West Midlands who created such revered, enduring and respected verse.

With the talents on display the most difficult task is choosing only ten. Their virtuosity, their craft and ambition scare belie the difficulties that society places upon most women. Their words cannot be denied, their literary heritage is safe forever.

Loss in any form seems to burden us with more weight than anything that can possibly be gained or learnt from. The loss of a person, a loved one, is often overwhelming. Lives so interwoven that the severing or loss of one life leaves the other weakened, unable to function for some time. Recovery comes in a myriad of forms but is usually debilitating, slow and, in the end, we are not as whole as we once were.It is a subject that authors return to again and again.

There is a day in March when people of Irish descent, in whole or part, and those who just wish to partake of the Shamrock Isle’s legendary hospitality, come together the world over to celebrate the world’s most popular national festival: St Patrick’s day. That day is March 17th, the traditional anniversary of his death in 561. Saint Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland and is acknowledged as the one who brought Christianity to its shores and drove out the snakes.