Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it - ah, but stay, I 'll tell you what happened without delay,...
Now, by the blessed Paphian queen, Who heaves the breast of sweet sixteen; By every name I cut on bark Before my morning star grew dark; By Hymen's torch, by Cupid's dart,...
There was a giant in time of old, A mighty one was he; He had a wife, but she was a scold, So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold; And he had children three.
Ye that have faced the billows and the spray Of good St. Botolph's island-studded bay, As from the gliding bark your eye has scanned The beaconed rocks, the wave-girt hills of sand,...
When rose the cry "Great Pan is dead!" And Jove's high palace closed its portal, The fallen gods, before they fled, Sold out their frippery to a mortal.
What flower is this that greets the morn, Its hues from Heaven so freshly born? With burning star and flaming band It kindles all the sunset land Oh tell us what its name may be, -...
The fount the Spaniard sought in vain Through all the land of flowers Leaps glittering from the sandy plain Our classic grove embowers; Here youth, unchanging, blooms and smiles,...
When Advent dawns with lessening days, While earth awaits the angels' hymn; When bare as branching coral sways In whistling winds each leafless limb; When spring is but a spendthrift's dream,...
The folks, that on the first of May Wore winter coats and hose, Began to say, the first of June, "Good Lord! how hot it grows!" At last two Fahrenheits blew up, And killed two children small,...
'T was a vision of childhood that came with its dawn, Ere the curtain that covered life's day-star was drawn; The nurse told the tale when the shadows grew long, And the mother's soft lullaby breathed it in song....
Where is this patriarch you are kindly greeting? Not unfamiliar to my ear his name, Nor yet unknown to many a joyous meeting In days long vanished, - is he still the same, ...
No more the summer floweret charms, The leaves will soon be sere, And Autumn folds his jewelled arms Around the dying year; So, ere the waning seasons claim Our leafless groves awhile,...
Though young no more, we still would dream Of beauty's dear deluding wiles; The leagues of life to graybeards seem Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles.
Now, men of the North! will you join in the strife For country, for freedom, for honor, for life? The giant grows blind in his fury and spite, - One blow on his forehead will settle the fight! ...