Not with the anguish of hearts that are breaking Come we as mourners to weep for our dead; Grief in our breasts has grown weary of aching, Green is the turf where our tears we have shed. ...
No mystic charm, no mortal art, Can bid our loved companions stay; The bands that clasp them to our heart Snap in death's frost and fall apart; Like shadows fading with the day, They pass away. ...
Trained in the holy art whose lifted shield Wards off the darts a never-slumbering foe, By hearth and wayside lurking, waits to throw, Oppression taught his helpful arm to wield...
From this fair home behold on either side The restful mountains or the restless sea So the warm sheltering walls of life divide Time and its tides from still eternity. ...
Come back to your mother, ye children, for shame, Who have wandered like truants for riches or fame! With a smile on her face, and a sprig in her cap, She calls you to feast from her bountiful lap. ...
Flash out a stream of blood-red wine, For I would drink to other days, And brighter shall their memory shine, Seen flaming through its crimson blaze! The roses die, the summers fade,...
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! Her weary hands their labor cease; Good night, poor Martha, - sleep in peace! Toll the bell!
I thank you, MR. PRESIDENT, you've kindly broke the ice; Virtue should always be the first, - I 'm only SECOND VICE - (A vice is something with a screw that's made to hold its jaw...
O my lost beauty! - hast thou folded quite Thy wings of morning light Beyond those iron gates Where Life crowds hurrying to the haggard Fates, And Age upon his mound of ashes waits...
How long will this harp which you once loved to hear Cheat your lips of a smile or your eyes of a tear? How long stir the echoes it wakened of old, While its strings were unbroken, untarnished its gold? ...
My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! Long years have o'er her flown; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone; I know it hurts her, - though she looks As cheerful as she can;...
Through my north window, in the wintry weather, - My airy oriel on the river shore, - I watch the sea-fowl as they flock together Where late the boatman flashed his dripping oar. ...
"Will I come?" That is pleasant! I beg to inquire If the gun that I carry has ever missed fire? And which was the muster-roll-mention but one - That missed your old comrade who carries the gun? ...
Facts respecting an old arm-chair. At Cambridge. Is kept in the College there. Seems but little the worse for wear. That 's remarkable when I say It was old in President Holyoke's day....