As the voice of the watch to the mariner's dream, As the footstep of Spring on the ice-girdled stream, There comes a soft footstep, a whisper, to me, - The vision is over, - the rivulet free. ...
Champagne doth not a luncheon make, Nor caviare a meal; Men gluttonous and rich may take These till they make them ill. If I've potatoes to my chop, And after that have cheese,...
Wistaria blossoms trail and fall Above the length of barrier wall; And softly, now and then, The shy, staid-breasted doves will flit From roof to gateway-top, and sit And watch the ways of men. ...
There I halted. Further down the hollow Stood the township, where my errand lay. Firm my purpose, till a voice cried (Follow! Come this way -- I tell you -- come this way!) ...
Who loves the white-thorn tree, And the river running free? There a maiden stood with me In Summer weather. Near a cottage far from town, While the sun went brightly down...
A lovely show for eyes to see I looked upon this morning, - A bright-hued, feathered company Of nature's own adorning; But ah! those minstrels would not sing A listening ear while I lent, -...
This is our place of meeting; opposite That towered and pillared building: look at it; King's Chapel in the Second George's day, Rebellion stole its regal name away, -...
A little crippled figure, two big pathetic eyes, A face that looked unchildish, so wan it was and wise; I watched her as the homesick tears came chasing down each cheek....
The year lies fallen and faded On cliffs by clouds invaded, With tongues of storms upbraided, With wrath of waves bedinned; And inland, wild with warning, As in deaf ears or scorning,...
Long ago the Gladiators, When the call to combat came, Marching past the massed spectators, Hailed the Emp'ror with acclaim! Voices ringing with the fury Of the strife so soon to be,...
Full in the splendour of this morning hour, With tramp of men and roll of muffled drums, In what a pomp and pageantry of power, Borne to his grave, our lord, King EDWARD, comes! ...
"Up!" said the Spirit and ere I could pray One hasty orison, whirled me away To a Limbo, lying--I wist not where-- Above or below, in earth or air; For it glimmered o'er with a doubtful light,...
"What, are you lost, my pretty little lady? This is no place for such sweet things as you. Our bodies, rank with sweat, will make you sicken, And, you'll observe, our lives are rank lives too." ...
A voice by cedar tree In the meadow under the Hall! She is singing an air that is known to me, A passionate ballad gallant and gay, A martial song like a trumpet's call!...
On western plain and eastern hill Where once my fancy ranged, The station hands are riding still And they are little changed. But I have lost in London gloom The glory of the day,...