Two words about the world we see, And nought but Mine and Thine they be. Ah! might we drive them forth and wide With us should rest and peace abide; All free, nought owned of goods and gear,...
The most alluring clouds that mount the sky Owe to a troubled element their forms, Their hues to sunset. If with raptured eye We watch their splendour, shall we covet storms,...
Who ponders National events shall find An awful balancing of loss and gain, Joy based on sorrow, good with ill combined, And proud deliverance issuing out of pain...
Know'st thou, O slave-cursed land How, when the Chian's cup of guilt Was full to overflow, there came God's justice in the sword of flame That, red with slaughter to its hilt,...
Agatha, tell me, does thy heart not ache, Plunged in this squalid city's filthy sea, For another ocean where the splendours break Blue, clear, and deep as is virginity....
I asked if I should pray. But the Brahmin said, "pray for nothing, say Every night in bed, ""I have been a king, I have been a slave, Nor is there anything. Fool, rascal, knave,...
I'm poor man, me, but I buy las' May Wan horse on de Comp'nie Passengaire, An' auction feller w'at sole heem say She's out of de full-breed "Messengaire."
The heat sticks closely to the gun and to the hand. It pricks the eyes. Nothing remained forgotten. The troops stepped, half drunk, into the fire. The non-coms stand rigidly in front....
Mon frere Camille he was first class blood W'en he come off de State las' fall, Wearin' hees boot a la mode box toe An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;...
Do you not hear me calling, white deer with no horns! I have been changed to a hound with one red ear; I have been in the Path of Stones and the Wood of Thorns,...
How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd! How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, How dull is that ear which to flattery so listen'd! ...
1. The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark - now glittering - now reflecting gloom - Now lending splendour, where from secret springs...
Beautiful valley! through whose verdant meads Unheard the Garigliano glides along;-- The Liris, nurse of rushes and of reeds, The river taciturn of classic song.
Stretched on the dying Mother's lap, lies dead Her new-born Babe; dire ending of bright hope! But Sculpture here, with the divinest scope Of luminous faith, heavenward hath raised that head...
Nothing so true as what you once let fall-- 'Most women have no characters at all.' Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair. ...