It was an April morning: fresh and clear The Rivulet, delighting in its strength, Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice Of waters which the winter had supplied Was softened down into a vernal tone....
Those men are deemed heroes who rush on the foe Regardless of danger, and seek not to know What others may do; Stern duty demands it--why should they falter If all they hold dear is laid on the altar,...
It was the lovely moon--she lifted Slowly her white brow among Bronze cloud-waves that ebbed and drifted Faintly, faintlier afar. Calm she looked, yet pale with wonder, Sweet in unwonted thoughtfulness,...
I vex me not with brooding on the years That were ere I drew breath: why should I then Distrust the darkness that may fall again When life is done? Perchance in other spheres--...
All night the army came up from Gilgal To get to the killing field, and that's all. In the ground, warf and woof, lay the dead. I want to die in My own bed. Like slits in a tank, their eyes were uncanny,...
I was the midmost of my world When first I frisked me free, For though within its circuit gleamed But a small company, And I was immature, they seemed To bend their looks on me. ...
I am pale with sick desire, For my heart is far away From this world's fitful fire And this world's waning day; In a dream it overleaps A world of tedious ills To where the sunshine sleeps...
I worked no wile to meet you, My sight was set elsewhere, I sheered about to shun you, And lent your life no care. I was unprimed to greet you At such a date and place, Constraint alone had won you...
I wrung my hands under my dark veil. . . "Why are you pale, what makes you reckless?" -- Because I have made my loved one drunk with an astringent sadness.
Twain? Oh, yes, I've heard Mark Twain Heard him down to Pleasant Plain; Funny? Yes, I guess so. Folks Seemed to laugh loud at his jokes, Laughed to beat the band; but I Couldn't rightly make out why....
Shine! All right; here y'are, boss! Do it for jest five cents. Get 'em fixed in a minute, That is, 'f nothing perwents. Set your foot right there, sir. Mornin's kinder cold,...
They would have lynched me Had I not been secretly hurried away To the jail at Peoria. And yet I was going peacefully home, Carrying my jug, a little drunk, When Logan, the marshal, halted me...
He stood on the wood-crowned summit Of our mountain's regal height, And gazed on the scene before him, By October's golden light, And his dark eyes, earnest, thoughtful, Lit up with a softer ray...