Yes, let them gather! Summon forth The pledged philanthropy of Earth. From every land, whose hills have heard The bugle blast of Freedom waking; Or shrieking of her symbol-bird...
They called Thee Merry England, in old time; A happy people won for thee that name With envy heard in many a distant clime; And, spite of change, for me thou keep'st the same...
Mute they wander, Meeting yonder, In the wondrous Spring new-born, That though old as Time's first morn, Brings fresh youth to all the living, Now held fast, now far retreating,...
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found, I've got a little list I've got a little list Of social offenders who might well be underground, And who never would be missed who never would be missed!...
And what do you eat in the mess there compounded? For roast beef, the gravy the soap-man should claim-- The soup some odd things might turn up if sounded, And other "made-dishes" might turn up the same. ...
Young Harry wor a single chap, An wod have lots o' tin, An monny a lass had set her cap, This temptin prize to win. But Harry didn't want a wife, He'd rayther far be free;...
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells, Of youth and home and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime.
Old Ivan McIvanovitch, with knitted brow of care, Has climbed up from the engine-room to get a breath of air; He slowly wipes the grease and sweat from hairy face and neck....
Tho' the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me; In exile thy bosom shall still be my home, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we room. ...
What, thou, my friend! a man of rhymes, And, better still, a man of guineas, To talk of "patrons," in these times, When authors thrive like spinning-jennies, And Arkwright's twist and Bulwer's page...
High in the midst, surrounded by his peers, Magnus [1] his ample front sublime uprears: Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God, While Sophs [2] and Freshmen tremble at his nod;...
Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder? I see not the grace that I used to see In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or In the boughs of the willow tree....
As I ride, as I ride, With a full heart for my guide, So its tide rocks my side, As I ride, as I ride, That, as I were double-eyed, He, in whom our Tribes confide,...
I should not dare to leave my friend, Because -- because if he should die While I was gone, and I -- too late -- Should reach the heart that wanted me;