This Lawn, a carpet all alive With shadows flung from leaves, to strive In dance, amid a press Of sunshine, an apt emblem yields Of Worldlings reveling in the fields Of strenuous idleness; ...
This life is all checkered with pleasures and woes, That chase one another like waves of the deep,-- Each brightly or darkly, as onward it flows, Reflecting our eyes, as they sparkle or weep....
This moment yearning and thoughtful, sitting alone, It seems to me there are other men in other lands, yearning and thoughtful; It seems to me I can look over and behold them, in Germany, Italy,...
I hate this City, seated on the Plain, The clang and clamour of the hot Bazar, Knowing, amid the pauses of my pain, This month the Almonds bloom in Kandahar. ...
This section is a Christmas tree: Loaded with pretty toys for you. Behold the blocks, the Noah's arks, The popguns painted red and blue. No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit,...
The rich man sat in his father's seat-- Purple an' linen, an' a'thing fine! The puir man lay at his yett i' the street-- Sairs an' tatters, an' weary pine!
This world is all a fleeting show, For man's illusion given; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow-- There's nothing true but Heaven! ...
Aw like to see a lot o' lads All frolicsome an free, An hear ther noisy voices, As they run an shaat wi' glee; But if ther's onny sooart o' lad Aw like better nor another,...
Tho' lightly sounds the song I sing to thee, Tho' like the lark's its soaring music be, Thou'lt find even here some mournful note that tells How near such April joy to weeping dwells....
It is the story of Thompson of Thompson, the hero of Angels. Frequently drunk was Thompson, but always polite to the stranger; Light and free was the touch of Thompson upon his revolver;...
We severed in autumn early, Ere the earth was torn by the plough; The wheat and the oats and the barley Are ripe for the harvest now. We sunder'd one misty morning,...
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells, Of youth and home and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime.
Those words were uttered as in pensive mood We turned, departing from that solemn sight: A contrast and reproach to gross delight, And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed!...
Tho' 'tis all but a dream at the best, And still, when happiest, soonest o'er, Yet, even in a dream, to be blest Is so sweet, that I ask for no more. The bosom that opes With earliest hopes,...
Cry out upon the crime, and then let slip The dogs of hate, whose hanging muzzles track The bloody secret; let the welkin crack Reverberating, while ye dance and skip...