She told the story, and the whole world wept At wrongs and cruelties it had not known But for this fearless woman's voice alone. She spoke to consciences that long had slept:...
To all my fond rhapsodies, Charley, You have wearily listened, I fear; As yet not an answer you've given Save a shrug, or an ill-concealed sneer; Pray, why, when I talk of my marriage,...
Hard as hurdle arms, with a broth of goldish flue Breathed round; the rack of ribs; the scooped flank; lank Rope-over thigh; knee-nave; and barrelled shank - Head and foot, shoulder and shank -...
In his arm-chair, warmly cushioned, In the quiet earned by labor, Life's reposeful Indian summer, Grandpa sits; and lets the paper Lie upon his knee unheeded. Shine his cheeks like winter apples,...
I was just turned twenty-one, And Henry Phipps, the Sunday-school superintendent, Made a speech in Bindle's Opera House. "The honor of the flag must be upheld," he said,...
The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor With the slow motion of a summer's cloud, And now, as he approached a vassal's door, "Bring forth another horse!" he cried aloud. ...
Here stood an Oak, that long had borne affixed To his huge trunk, or, with more subtle art, Among its withering topmost branches mixed, The palmy antlers of a hunted Hart,...
Fair Harvard, dear guide of our youth's golden days; At thy name all our hearts own a thrill, We turn from life's .highways, its business, its cares,...
'Tis once in life our dreams come true, The myths of long ago, Quite real though fairy-like their view, They surge with ebb and flow; Thus thou, O haunt of childhood dreams, More beauteous and fair...
Cows in the stall and sheep in the fold; Clouds in the west, deep crimson and gold; A heron's far flight to a roost somewhere; The twitter of killdees keen in the air;...
The tanned and sultry noon climbs high Up gleaming reaches of the sky; Below the balmy belts of pines The cliff-lunged river laps and shines; Adown the aromatic dell...
Other harvests there are than those that lie Glowing and ripe 'neath an autumn sky, Awaiting the sickle keen, Harvests more precious than golden grain, Waving o'er hillside, valley or plain,...
That melancholy phrase "It might have been," However sad, doth in its heart enfold A hidden germ of promise! for I hold WHATEVER MIGHT HAVE BEEN SHALL BE. Though in...
Has she forgotten? On this very May We were to meet here, with the birds and bees, As on that Sabbath, underneath the trees We strayed among the tombs, and stripped away...
Has sorrow thy young days shaded, As clouds o'er the morning fleet? Too fast have those young days faded, That, even in sorrow, were sweet? Does Time with his cold wing wither...
Haste is unhappy; what we rashly do Is both unlucky, aye, and foolish, too. Where war with rashness is attempted, there The soldiers leave the field with equal fear.