I love to see the swallows come At my window twittering, Bringing from their southern home News of the approaching spring. 'Last year's nest,' they softly say, 'Last year's love again shall see;...
When the reaper's task was ended, and the summer wearing late, Parson Avery sailed from Newbury, with his wife and children eight, Dropping down the river-harbor in the shallop "Watch and Wait." ...
Name of my heroine, simply 'Rose;' Surname, tolerable only in prose; Habitat, Paris, that is where She resided for change of air; Aetat twenty; complexion fair; Rich, good looking, and debonnaire;...
In the pleasant green Garden We sat down to tea; "Do you take sugar?" and "Do you take milk?" She'd got a new gown on A smart one of silk. We all were so happy As happy could be,...
In the heroic days when Ferdinand And Isabella ruled the Spanish land, And Torquemada, with his subtle brain, Ruled them, as Grand Inquisitor of Spain,...
Spirit of Earth! thy hand is chill: I've felt its icy clasp; And, shuddering, I remember still That stony-hearted grasp. Thine eye bids love and joy depart: Oh, turn its gaze from me!...
Ah, very, very poor was she-- Old Dame Pig, with her children three! Robust, beautiful little ones Were those three sons, Each wearing always, without fail, A little fanciful knot in his tail. ...
We, three men of commerce, Striving wealth to raise, See but little promise In the coming days; Though our hearts are brittle, Hardened near to stone, We can think a little...
In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing, And hearts were weary and nigh to break, A sweet grave man with a beautiful bearing Came to us once in the fields and spake. ...
'Tis daily this baste Will prosade to the fayste, The best that Ould Oireland has seen; The P's are but three, But they're plenty for me, - The Pratie, the Pig, the Poteen. ...
Quite a proud and happy man is Finn the Packer Since he built his crazy mill upon the rise, And he stands there in the gully, chewing 'backer,' With a sleepy sort of comfort in his eyes,...
Stay awhile, thou blessed band, be entreated, daughters of heaven! While the chance-met scholar of Wisdom learneth your sacred names: He is resting a little from his toil, yet a little on the borders of earth,...
When the flaming lute-thronged angelic door is wide; When an immortal passion breathes in mortal clay; Our hearts endure the scourge, the plaited thorns, the way...
The roving breezes come and go, the reed beds sweep pand sway, The sleepy river murmurs low, and loiters on its way, It is the land of lots o' time along the Castlereagh. ...