Oh Galuppi, Baldassaro, this is very sad to find! I can hardly misconceive you; it would prove me deaf and blind; But although I take your meaning, 'tis with such a heavy mind!
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blame with praise, And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends, Masking his birth-name, wont to character...
Two angry men - in heat they sever, And one goes home by a harvest field: - "Hope's nought," quoth he, "and vain endeavor; I said and say it, I will not yield! ...
You were a red rose then, I know, Red as her wine--yea, redder still,-- Say rather her blood; and ages ago (You know how destiny hath its will) I placed you deep in her gorgeous hair,...
Atonement Day--evening pray'r--sadness profound. The soul-lights, so clear once, are dying around. The reader is spent, and he barely can speak; The people are faint, e'en the basso is weak....
Alone at last! Nothing is to be heard but the rattle of a few tardy and tired-out cabs. There will be silence now, if not repose, for several hours at least....
The following verses were suggested by a touching ceremony which lately took place in the chapel of the Congregation Convent, Notre Dame, Montreal, the beloved Institution in which the happy days of my girlhood were passed. The...
When first the crocus thrusts its point of gold Up through the still snow-drifted garden mould, And folded green things in dim woods unclose Their crinkled spears, a sudden tremor goes...
Bereave me not of Fancy's shadowy dreams, Which won my heart, or when the gay career Of life begun, or when at times a tear Sat sad on memory's cheek--though loftier themes...
What is there left for us to say, Now it has come to say good-by? And all our dreams of yesterday Have vanished in the sunset sky - What is there left for us to say, Now different ways before us lie?...
Peace! Let me go, or ere it be too late; Dip not your arrows in the honey-mead; Paint not the wound through which my heart doth bleed; Leave me unmock'd, unpitied to my fate-- Peace! Let me go. ...
Crowds! Crowds! Crowds! Suddenly here as if come from the clouds That faded away as they came; Mad acres of people aflame With thirst for a morsel of land; Wild hunters of fortune, whose game...
Play that you are mother dear, And play that papa is your beau; Play that we sit in the corner here, Just as we used to, long ago. Playing so, we lovers two Are just as happy as we can be,...
When eight strong fellows are out to row, With a slip of a lad to guide them, I warrant they'll make the light ship go, Though the coach on the launch may chide them,...
The blackbird sang, the skies were clear and clean We bowled along a road that curved a spine Superbly sinuous and serpentine Thro' silent symphonies of summer green....
'Tis said that to the brow of yon fair hill Two Brothers clomb, and, turning face from face, Nor one look more exchanging, grief to still Or feed, each planted on that lofty place...
Who's that walking on the moorland? Who's that moving on the hill? They are passing 'mid the bracken, But the shadows grow and blacken And I cannot see them clearly on the hill. ...