One sits in soft light, where the hearth is warm, A halo, like an angel's, on her hair. She clasps a sleeping infant in her arm. A holy presence hovers round her there,...
A beautiful form and a beautiful face, A winsome bride and a woman's grace, So fair and sweet it were heaven indeed For man to follow where she would lead.
If suddenly a clod of earth should rise, And walk about, and breathe, and speak, and love, How one would tremble, and in what surprise Gasp: 'Can you move?' ...
I seek not what his soul desires. He dreads not what my spirit fears. Our Heavens have shown us separate fires. Our dooms have dealt us differing years.
When I hear the praises of the rich man Rothschild, who out of his immense revenues devotes whole thousands to the education of children, the care of the sick, the support of the aged, I admire and am touched. ...
When, in the mid-sea of the night, I waken at thy call, O Lord, The first that troop my bark aboard Are darksome imps that hate the light, Whose tongues are arrows, eyes a blight--...
One room is full of luxury, and dim With that soft moonlit radiance of light That she best loves, who sits and dreams of him Her heart has crowned as knight.
A humble wild-rose, pink and slender, Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet, Beside a Jacqueminot's royal splendour, And both in my lady's boudoir lay.
'Tis the queerest trade we have, the two of us that go about, I that do the talkin', and the little lad that sings, We to tell the story of a Land you ought to know about,--...