One hundred years ago, and something more, In Queen Street, Portsmouth, at her tavern door, Neat as a pin, and blooming as a rose, Stood Mistress Stavers in her furbelows,...
Olger the Dane and Desiderio, King of the Lombards, on a lofty tower Stood gazing northward o'er the rolling plains, League after league of harvests, to the foot...
An Oyster, cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before, Complaining in a speech well worded, And worthy thus to be recorded:' Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell...
In my thought I see you stand with a path on either hand, -Hills that look into the sun, and there a river'd meadow-land. And your lost voice with the things that it decreed across me thrills,...
One day, when I was young, I read About a poet, long since dead, Who fell asleep, as poets do In writing--and make others too. But herein lies the story's gist, How a gay queen came up and kist...
Wine can clothe the most sordid hole in miraculous luxury, and let many a fabulous portico float free in the gold of its red glow, like a setting sun in the sky's cloudy sea. ...
When a felon's not engaged in his employment Or maturing his felonious little plans. His capacity for innocent enjoyment, Is just as great as any honest man's Our feelings we with difficulty smother...
And I told the boy next door What Jack Frost had done; and he Said, "Ah shucks! that's nothing; see? I have seen all that before. You just come along with me; I will show you something more."...
Gray were the rushes Beside the budless bushes, Green-patched the pond. The lark had left soaring Though yet the sun was pouring His gold here and beyond.
By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love, I have sat with you time and again; And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love, To the sibilant sound of the rain. ...
Observe, my child, this pretty scene, And note the air of pleasure keen With which the widow's orphan boy Toots his tin horn, his only toy. What need of costly gifts has he?...
'Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me, With your golden hair all fallen below your knee, And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea, And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?' ...