What best I see in thee, Is not that where thou mov'st down history's great highways, Ever undimm'd by time shoots warlike victory's dazzle, Or that thou sat'st where Washington sat, ruling the land in peace,...
Wintertime, er Summertime, Of late years I notice I'm, Kindo'-like, more subjec' to What the weather is. Now, you Folks 'at lives in town, I s'pose, Thinks its bully when it snows;...
What counsel has the hooded moon Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet, Of Love in ancient plenilune, Glory and stars beneath his feet, A sage that is but kith and kin With the comedian Capuchin? ...
"Here, Charlotte," said Mamma one day. "These stockings knit while I'm away, And should you fail, be sure you'll find Mamma is strict, although she's kind."
What have the cavalry done? Cantered and trotted about, Routin' the enemy out, Causin' the beggars to run! And we tramped along in the blazin' heat, Over the veldt on our weary feet....
What inn is this Where for the night Peculiar traveller comes? Who is the landlord? Where the maids? Behold, what curious rooms! No ruddy fires on the hearth, No brimming tankards flow....
Well, say you the world is a chamber of sleep, And life but a sleeping and dreaming? Then I too would dream: and would joyously reap The blooms of harmonious seeming;...
What is to come we know not. But we know That what has been was good, was good to show, Better to hide, and best of all to bear. We are the masters of the days that were:...
I once knew a certain Benedicta whose presence filled the air with the ideal and whose eyes spread abroad the desire of grandeur, of beauty, of glory, and of all that makes man believe in immortality....
Young Alick gate wed, as all gradely chaps do, An tuk Sally for better or war; A daycenter felly ne'er foller'd a ploo, - Th' best lad ov his mother's bi far. ...
A'a, dear! what a life has a mother! At leeast, if they're hamper'd like me, Thro' mornin' to neet ther's some bother, An' ther will be, aw guess, wol aw dee.
It is not the lark's clear tone Cleaving the morning air with a soaring cry, Nor the nightingale's dulcet melody all the balmy night - Not these alone Make the sweet sounds of summer;...
Well, what of it then, if your heart be weighed with the yoke Of the world's neglect? and the smoke Of doubt, blown into your eyes, make night of your road? And the sting of the goad,...
What of the darkness? Is it very fair? Are there great calms and find ye silence there? Like soft-shut lilies all your faces glow With some strange peace our faces never know,...
A sound of tumult troubles all the air, Like the low thunders of a sultry sky Far-rolling ere the downright lightnings glare; The hills blaze red with warnings; foes draw nigh,...
The doom is imminent of unholy hate. Hail to the light that glimmers where the leaves Are shaken by winds of dawning, and the sheaves Of hemlock swirl and scatter in the spate!...