By those soft tods of wool With which the air is full; By all those tinctures there, That paint the hemisphere; By dews and drizzling rain That swell the golden grain; By all those sweets that be...
A speck that would have been beneath my sight On any but a paper sheet so white Set off across what I had written there. And I had idly poised my pen in air To stop it with a period of ink...
A young man goes skipping and bounding along a street in the capital. His movements are gay and alert; there is a sparkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips, a pleasing flush on his beaming face.... He is all contentment and deli...
Shades though you're leafless, save the bramble-spear Whose weather-beaten leaves, of purple stain, In hardy stubbornness cling all the year To their old thorns, till Spring buds new again;...
On the wide veranda white, In the purple failing light, Sits the master while the sun is lowly burning; And his dreamy thoughts are drowned In the softly flowing sound...
Violets and leaves of vine, Into a frail, fair wreath We gather and entwine: A wreath for Love to wear, Fragrant as his own breath, To crown his brow divine, All day till night is near....
We reached the place by night, And heard the waves breaking: They came to meet us with candles alight To show the path we were taking. A myrtle, trained on the gate, was white...
O strong Republic of the nobler years Whose white feet shine beside time's fairer flood That shall flow on the clearer for our blood Now shed, and the less brackish for our tears;...
May the man who has cruelly murdered his sire-- A crime to be punished with death-- Be condemned to eat garlic till he shall expire Of his own foul and venomous breath!...
What is the song the children sing, When doorway lilacs bloom in Spring, And the Schools are loosed, and the games are played That were deadly earnest when Earth was made?...
Thrice, and above, blest, my soul's half, art thou, In thy both last and better vow; Could'st leave the city, for exchange, to see The country's sweet simplicity; And it to know and practise, with intent...
"Master," quoth the auld hound "Where will ye go?" "Over moss, over muir, To court my new jo." "Master, though the night be merk, I'se follow through the snow.
Not we who daily walk the city's Not those who have been cradled in its heart, Best understand its architectural art Or realise its grandeur. Oft we meet Some stranger who has staid his passing feet...
I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain, and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane....