Works

Let not a tear be shed!
Of grief give not a token,
Although the silver thread
And golden bowl be broken!
A warrior lived--a Christian died!
Sorrow's forgotten in our pride!
...

Love left one day his leafy bower,
And roamed in sportive vein,
Where Vanity had built a tower,
For Fashion's sparkling train.
The mistress to see he requested,
Of one who attended the door:...

'Tis the opinion of the town
That Grim's a silly elf:
In trying to write Clinton down,
He went RIGHT DOWN HIMSELF.

Two children of the olden time
In Flora's primrose season,
Were born. The name of one was Rhyme
That of the other Reason.
And both were beautiful and fair,
And pure as mountain stream and air.
...

I miss thee from my side, beloved,
I miss thee from my side;
And wearily and drearily
Flows Time's resistless tide.
The world, and all its fleeting joys,
To me are worse than vain,...

Joyous the carol that rings in the mountains,
While the cleared vales are refreshed by the fountains--
After the harvest the cheerful notes fall,
And all the glad reapers re-echo the call!
La ra la la, &c....

'Twas night. Near the murmuring Saone,
We met with no witnesses by,
But such as resplendently shone
In the blue-tinted vault of the sky:
Your head on my bosom was laid,...

The moon and all her starry train
Were fading from the morning sky,
When home the ball-room belle again
Returned, with throbbing pulse and brain,
Flushed cheek and tearful eye.
...

Unseal the city fountains,
And let the waters flow
In coolness from the mountains
Unto the plains below.
My brain is parched and erring,
The pavement hot and dry,
And not a breath is stirring...

Old Nick, who taught the village-school,
Wedded a maid of homespun habit;
He was as stubborn as a mule,
She was as playful as a rabbit.

Poor Jane had scarce become a wife,...

A rock in the wilderness welcomed our sires,
From bondage far over the dark-rolling sea;
On that holy altar they kindled the fires,
Jehovah, which glow in our bosoms for Thee....

Droop not, brothers!
As we go,
O'er the mountains,
Under the boughs of mistletoe,
Log huts we'll rear,
While herds of deer and buffalo
Furnish the cheer.
File o'er the mountains--steady, boys...