Last week the Lord be praised for all His mercies To His unworthy servant! I arrived Safe at the Mission, via Westport; where I tarried over night, to aid in forming A Vigilance Committee, to send back,...
The hand that fashioned me, tuned my ear To chord with the major key, In the darkest moments of life I hear Strains of courage, and hope, and cheer From choirs that I cannot see....
Oh! why does sorrow shade thy face, Where mind and beauty vie with grace? Say, dost thou for thy hero weep, Who gallantly, upon the deep, Is gone to tell the madd'ning foe,...
Amid the ruins of monastic gloom, Where Nore's meand'ring waters wind along, Genius and Wealth have rais'd the tasteful dome, Yet not alone for Fashion's brilliant throng; - ...
Tho' leafless are the woods, tho' flow'rs no more, In beauty blushing, spread their fragrant store, Yet still 'tis sweet to quit the crowded scene, And rove with Nature, tho' no longer green;...
In this lone, open glade I lie, Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand; And at its end, to stay the eye, Those black-crown'd, red-boled pine-trees stand!
Resolve me this, ye happy dead, Who've lain some hundred years in bed, From every persecution free That in this wretched life we see; Would ye resume a second birth, And choose once more to live on earth?
Beside me, in the golden light That slants upon the floor, She twines the many-colored silks Her dimpled fingers o'er; Uplifting now and then her eye, Or praise or blame in mine to spy. ...
Jes' a little bit o' feller - I remember still, - Ust to almost cry far Christmas, like a youngster will. Fourth o' July's nothin' to it! - New-Year's ain't a smell:...
O Thou Eternal One, look down Upon an erring child of earth; Thy handiwork with knowledge crown, Or life will seem of little worth; By Thine own light illume my way, And turn this darkness into day....
Let me be warm, let me be fully fed, Luxurious love by wealth is nourished. Let me be lean, and cold, and once grown poor, I shall dislike what once I lov'd before.
Tying her bonnet under her chin, She tied her raven ringlets in; But, not alone in the silken snare Did she catch her lovely floating hair, For, tying her bonnet under her chin,...
You may think, passer-by, that Fate Is a pit-fall outside of yourself, Around which you may walk by the use of foresight And wisdom. Thus you believe, viewing the lives of other men,...