Works

Ho! the old Snow-Man
That Noey Bixler made!
He looked as fierce and sassy
As a soldier on parade! -
'Cause Noey, when he made him,
While we all wuz gone, you see,
He made him, jist a-purpose,...

Marcellus, won't you tell us -
Truly tell us, if you can, -
What will you be, Marcellus,
When you get to be a man?

You turn, with never answer
But to the band that plays. -...

Lichens of green and grey on every side;
And green and grey the rocks beneath our feet;
Above our heads the canvas stretching wide;
And over all, enchantment rare and sweet.
...

Three Poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England, did adorn.
The first, in loftiness of thought surpass'd;
The next, in majesty; in both the last.
The force of nature could no further go;...

White from her chrysalis of cloud,
The moth-like moon swings upward through the night;
And all the bee-like stars that crowd
The hollow hive of heav'n wane in her light.
...

She stood beneath the mistletoe
That hung above the door,
Quite conscious of the sprig above,
Revered by maids of yore.
A timid longing filled her heart;
Her pulses throbbed with heat;...

I have no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde,
Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor Joyous Isle,
Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while;
Nor Uladh, when Naoise had thrown a sail upon the wind;...

Undue significance a starving man attaches
To food
Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,
And therefore good.

Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves us
That spices fly...

My tongue undulates, a wave to shore,
knocks a vigorous reef,
then slides to sea once more.

The coral pink horizon of the mouth,
cavernous shores,
my tongue laps pier white teeth...

Unto my books so good to turn
Far ends of tired days;
It half endears the abstinence,
And pain is missed in praise.

As flavors cheer retarded guests
With banquetings to be,...

Tune - "Cold blows the wind."


Chorus.

Up in the morning's no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

I.
...

If men can say that beauty dies,
Marbles will swear that here it lies.
If, reader, then thou canst forbear
In public loss to shed a tear,
The dew of grief upon this stone...

Crooked you are, but that dislikes not me:
So you be straight where virgins straight should be.

You say you'll kiss me, and I thank you for it;
But stinking breath, I do as hell abhor it.

Here she lies, in bed of spice,
Fair as Eve in paradise;
For her beauty, it was such,
Poets could not praise too much.
Virgins come, and in a ring
Her supremest requiem sing;...

Hence a blessed soul is fled,
Leaving here the body dead;
Which since here they can't combine,
For the saint we'll keep the shrine.

That morn which saw me made a bride,
The evening witness'd that I died.
Those holy lights, wherewith they guide
Unto the bed the bashful bride,
Serv'd but as tapers for to burn...

Tread, sirs, as lightly as ye can
Upon the grave of this old man.
Twice forty, bating but one year
And thrice three weeks, he lived here.
Whom gentle fate translated hence
To a more happy residence....

In this little vault she lies,
Here, with all her jealousies:
Quiet yet; but if ye make
Any noise they both will wake,
And such spirits raise 'twill then
Trouble death to lay again.

Let all chaste matrons, when they chance to see
My num'rous issue, praise and pity me:
Praise me for having such a fruitful womb,
Pity me, too, who found so soon a tomb.