Soul, dost thou fear For to-day or to-morrow? 'Tis the part of a fool To go seeking sorrow. Of thine own doing Thou canst not contrive them. 'Tis He that shall give them;...
Whose was that gentle voice, that, whispering sweet, Promised methought long days of bliss sincere! Soothing it stole on my deluded ear, Most like soft music, that might sometimes cheat...
It was not that I lived a life of ease, Quiet, secure, apart from every care; For on the darkest of my anxious days I thought my burden more than I could bear....
1. How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner, As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier, As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner, And drops, to Perfection's remembrance, a tear;...
In the black winter morning No light will be struck near my eyes While the clock in the stairway is warning For five, when he used to rise. Leave the door unbarred, The clock unwound,...
Where had I heard this wind before Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing there for, Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shore?...
I dream that the dearest I ever knew Has died and been entombed. I am sure it's a dream that cannot be true, But I am so overgloomed By its persistence, that I would gladly Have quick death take me,...
O charming blossom of the sea Atlantic waters bosomed in! Abiding-place of gayety, Elysian bower of "Cora Linn," The sprightly, lively d'biteuse Recounting all she sees and does. ...
There was an old woman Went blackberry picking Along the hedges From Weep to Wicking. Half a pottle - No more she had got, When out steps a Fairy From her green grot;...
'May be true what I had heard,-- Earth's a howling wilderness, Truculent with fraud and force,' Said I, strolling through the pastures, And along the river-side. Caught among the blackberry vines,...
My love went berrying Where brooks were merrying And wild wings ferrying Heaven's amethyst; The wildflowers blessed her, My dearest Hester, The winds caressed her,...
You can scorn more illustrious eyes, sweet eyes of my child, through which there takes flight something as good or as tender as night. Turn to mine your charmed shadows, sweet eyes! ...
I winged my bird, Though he flew toward the setting sun; But just as the shot rang out, he soared Up and up through the splinters of golden light, Till he turned right over, feathers ruffled,...
Gourgaud, these tears are tears - but look, this laugh, How hearty and serene - you see a laugh Which settles to a smile of lips and eyes Makes tears just drops of water on the leaves...