I shall rot here, with those whom in their day You never knew, And alien ones who, ere they chilled to clay, Met not my view, Will in your distant grave-place ever neighbour you.
The way was dark within the gloomy church-yard, As I wandered through the woodland near the stream, With slow and heavy tread Through a city of the dead,...
So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went, And you're cursing all the business in a bitter discontent; Well, we grieve to disappoint you, and it makes us sad to hear...
Happy the bard (though few such bards we find) Who, 'bove controlment, dares to speak his mind; Dares, unabash'd, in every place appear, And nothing fears, but what he ought to fear:...
Tell me, thou grotto! o'er whose brow are seen Projecting plumes, and shades of deep'ning green, - While not a sound disturbs thy stony hall, While all thy dewy drops forget to fall, -...
A land of lights and shadows intervolved, A land of blazing sun and blackest night, A fortress armed, and guarded jealously, With every portal barred against the Light. ...
Our Land - our Home - the common home indeed Of soil-born children and adopted ones - The stately daughters and the stalwart sons Of Industry: All greeting and godspeed!...
British infants who were nobly born Were from their bleeding mother's bosom torn, And with the bayonet dashed upon the street There left to lie for native dogs to eat. ...
The old grey year is near his term in sooth, And now with backward eye and soft-laid palm Awakens to a golden dream of youth, A second childhood lovely and most calm, And the smooth hour about his misty head...
Lyric night of the lingering Indian summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent....
Is it not our bounden duty Harsh and bitter thoughts to quell, Wild, ambitions schemes repel, And to revel in the beauty Of this Indian summer spell, Bathing forest, field, and dell...
I said,--for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,-- "I'll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed; But I'll never leave my pillow, though there be some...
You would not believe, would you That I came from good Welsh stock? That I was purer blooded than the white trash here? And of more direct lineage than the New Englanders And Virginians of Spoon River?...
We can endure that He should waste our lands, Despoil our temples, and by sword and flame Return us to the dust from which we came; Such food a Tyrant's appetite demands:...