There is a long thin line of fading gold In the far West, and the transfigured leaves On some slight, topmost bough that sways and heaves Hang limp and tremulous. Nor warm, nor cold...
Clear sounds the call on high: "To arms and victory!" Brave hearts that win or die, Dying, may win; Proudly the banners wave, What though the goal's the grave? Death cannot harm the brave, -...
Brother and friend I found thee in the hour Of need and day of trouble, strong and true. - In June's fair mirth, and when the sunrise hue Shewed bright where joy had built his thoughtless bower,...
It might have been so different a year To what has been; the summer's guileless play Not all a jest, comes back to me to-day In added sweetness, and provokes a tear....