'Midst the men and things which will Haunt an old man's memory still, Drollest, quaintest of them all, With a boy's laugh I recall Good old Abram Morrison.
A Broken rainbow on the skies of May, Touching the dripping roses and low clouds, And in wet clouds its scattered glories lost: So in the sorrow of her soul the ghost Of one great love, of iridescent ray,...
When Father Time swings round his scythe, Intomb me 'neath the bounteous vine, So that its juices, red and blithe, May cheer these thirsty bones of mine.
Whut you say, dah? huh, uh! chile, You 's enough to dribe me wile. Want a sto'y; jes' hyeah dat! Whah' 'll I git a sto'y at? Di'n' I tell you th'ee las' night? Go 'way, honey, you ain't right....
I pass a cobbler's shop along the street And pause a moment at the door-step, where, In nature's medley, piping cool and sweet, The songs that thrill the swamps when spring is near,...
When moiling seems at cease In the vague void of night-time, And heaven's wide roomage stormless Between the dusk and light-time, And fear at last is formless, We call the allurement Peace....
Oh, hadst thou fall'n, brave youth! on that proud day,[1] When our victorious fleet o'er the red surge Rolled in terrific glory, thou hadst fall'n Most honoured; and Remembrance, while she thought...
Now the new chum loaded his three-nought-three, It's a small-bore gun, but his hopes were big. "I am fed to the teeth with old ewe," said he, "And I might be able to shoot a pig."...
Pa he bringed me here to stay 'Til my Ma she's well. - An' nen He's go' hitch up, Chris'mus-day, An' come take me back again Wher' my Ma's at! Won't I be Tickled when he comes fer me! ...
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best....
My pretty dear Cuz, tho' I've roved the town o'er, To dispatch in an hour some visits a score; Though, since first on the wheels, I've been every day...
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...
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...
We read of kings and gods that kindly took A pitcher fill'd with water from the brook ; But I have daily tender'd without thanks Rivers of tears that overflow their banks....