Last Easter Jim put on his blue Frock cwoat, the vu'st time-vier new; Wi' yollow buttons all o' brass, That glitter'd in the zun lik' glass; An' pok'd 'ithin the button-hole...
'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through his windows seen In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited....
Ticonderoga to Lake George, the classic invasion route up the Richelieu valley past Plattsburg, Verdun, ' Montr'al across the North Shore reroute again
Dour river Jaded with monotony of lights Diving off mast heads.... Lights mad with creating in a river... turning its sullen back... Heave up, river......
Sunset smiles on sunrise: east and west are one, Face to face in heaven before the sovereign sun. From the springs of the dawn everlasting a glory renews and transfigures the west,...
Shouts, and the noise of war! Far o'er the land hath been my flight, O'er many a forest dark as night, O'er champaigns where the Tartar speeds, O'er Wolga's wild and giant reeds,...
How nice 'twould be if knowledge grew On bushes, as the berries do! Then we could plant our spelling seed, And gather all the words we need. The sums from off our slates we'd wipe,...
I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little pool Left there by the tide, A little tepid pool, Drying inward from the edge.
The white-rose garland at her feet, The crown of laurel at her head, Her noble life on earth complete, Lay her in the last low bed For the slumber calm and deep:...
How easily He turns the tides! Just now the yellow beach was dry, Just now the gaunt rocks all were bare, The sun beat hot, and thirstily Each sea-weed waved its long brown hair,...
Long reaches of wet grasses sway Where ran the sea but yesterday, And white-winged boats at sunset drew To anchor in the crimsoning blue. The boats lie on the grassy plain,...
There is one sin: to call a green leaf grey, Whereat the sun in heaven shuddereth. There is one blasphemy: for death to pray, For God alone knoweth the praise of death. ...
If there be prophets on whose spirits rest Past things, revealed like future, they can tell What Powers, presiding o'er the sacred well Of Christian Faith, this savage Island blessed...
From false assumption rose, and, fondly hailed By superstition, spread the Papal power; Yet do not deem the Autocracy prevailed Thus only, even in error's darkest hour....