WE count the broken lyres that rest Where the sweet wailing singers slumber, But o'er their silent sister's breast The wild-flowers who will stoop to number
A few can touch the magic string, And noisy Fame is proud to win them:— Alas for thos...
HE has gone,— she has left us in passion and pride,— Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side
She has torn her own star from our firmament's glow, And turned on her brother the face of a foe
Oh,
Caroline,
ST of my Sunday friends, The patient Organ-blower bends; I see his figure sink and rise, (Forgive me,
Heaven, my wandering eyes
) A moment lost, the next half seen, His head above the scanty screen, Still measuring out his deep salaams T...
ME, dear old comrade, you and I Will steal an hour from days gone by, The shining days when life was new, And all was bright with morning dew, The lusty days of long ago, When you were Bill and I was Joe
Your name may flaunt a titled trail Pr...
ER hands are cold; her face is white; No more her pulses come and go; Her eyes are shut to life and light;— Fold the white vesture, snow on snow, And lay her where the violets blow
But not beneath a graven stone, To plead for tears with alien...
OH for one hour of youthful joy
Give back my twentieth spring
I'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy, Than reign, a gray-beard king
Off with the spoils of wrinkled age
Yes, dear departed, cherished days,
Could Memory's hand
Your morning light, your evening rays,
From Time's gray urn once more,
I'M not a chicken;
I have seen Full many a chill September, And though I was a youngster then, That gale I well remember; The day before, my kite-string snapped, And I, my kite pursuing, The wind whisked off my palm-leaf hat; For me two storm...
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
ER's mother: her age,
I guess, Thirteen summers, or something less; Girlish bust, but womanly air; Smooth, square forehead with uprolled hair; Lips that lover has never kissed; Taper fingers and slender wrist; Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade...
How the mountains talked together,
Looking down upon the weather,
When they heard our friend had planned
Little trip among the
I love all sights of earth and skies, From flowers that glow to stars that shine; The comet and the penny show, All curious things, above, below, Hold each in turn my wandering eyes: I claim the Christian Pagan's line, Humani nihil, — even so, — A...