What shall the leader be in that great day When we who sleep and dream that we are slaves Shall wake and know that Liberty is ours? Mark well that word - not yours, not mine, but ours....
It was long, long ago that a soul like a flower Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour. It was long, long ago; and the memory seems Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams. ...
Now is the time when India is gay With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array,...
Somebody's baby was buried to-day - The empty white hearse from the grave rumbled back, And the morning somehow seemed less smiling and gay As I paused on the walk while it crossed on its way,...
Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I'm thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog; And, like a shining beacon Above the picture grim, I see the London 'Bobby,'...
There was a fair green garden sloping From the south-east side of the mountain-ledge; And the earliest tint of the dawn came groping Down through its paths, from the day's dim edge....
When the long day leans to the twilight, When the Evening star climbs to the moon, With a heart that is silently breaking, I sit in the gloaming and croon. I croon a low song for my darling,...
All through the Castle of High-bred Ease, Where the chief employment was do-as-you-please, Spread consternation and wild despair. The queen was wringing her hands and hair;...
A modern hour from London (as we spin Into a silver thread the miles of space Between us and our goal), there is a place Apart from city traffic, dust, and din,...
A changing medley of insistent sounds, Like broken airs, played on a Samisen, Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore. The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry...
Time flies. The swift hours hurry by And speed us on to untried ways; New seasons ripen, perish, die, And yet love stays. The old, old love - like sweet, at first, At last like bitter wine -...
Where have they gone to - the little girls With natural manners and natural curls; Who love their dollies and like their toys, And talk of something besides the boys?
What is right living? Just to do your best When worst seems easier. To bear the ills Of daily life with patient cheerfulness Nor waste dear time recounting them. To talk...
When love is lost, the day sets towards the night, Albeit the morning sun may still be bright, And not one cloud-ship sails across the sky. Yet from the places where it used to lie...
When she, my lady, smiles, I feel as one who, lost in darksome wilds, Sees suddenly the sun in middle sky Shining upon him like a great glad eye. When my sweet lady smiles. ...