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...
When legislators keep the law, When banks dispense with bolts and looks, When berries - whortle, rasp, and straw - Grow bigger downwards through the box, -
"Lucy." - The old familiar name Is now, as always, pleasant, Its liquid melody the same Alike in past or present; Let others call you what they will, I know you'll let me use it;...
Welcome, thrice welcome is thy silvery gleam, Thou long-imprisoned stream! Welcome the tinkle of thy crystal beads As plashing raindrops to the flowery meads, As summer's breath to Avon's whispering reeds!...
The stars their early vigils keep, The silent hours are near, When drooping eyes forget to weep, - Yet still we linger here; And what - the passing churl may ask - Can claim such wondrous power,...
Look out! Look out, boys! Clear the track! The witches are here! They've all come back! They hanged them high, - No use! No use! What cares a witch for a hangman's noose?...
Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it - ah, but stay, I 'll tell you what happened without delay,...
I must leave thee, lady sweet Months shall waste before we meet; Winds are fair and sails are spread, Anchors leave their ocean bed; Ere this shining day grow dark, Skies shall gird my shoreless bark....
The sun stepped down from his golden throne. And lay in the silent sea, And the Lily had folded her satin leaves, For a sleepy thing was she; What is the Lily dreaming of? Why crisp the waters blue?...
The two proud sisters of the sea, In glory and in doom! - Well may the eternal waters be Their broad, unsculptured tomb! The wind that rings along the wave, The clear, unshadowed sun,...
If every tongue that speaks her praise For whom I shape my tinkling phrase Were summoned to the table, The vocal chorus that would meet Of mingling accents harsh or sweet,...
Our Poet, who has taught the Western breeze To waft his songs before him o'er the seas, Will find them wheresoe'er his wanderings reach Borne on the spreading tide of English speech...
Friend, whom thy fourscore winters leave more dear Than when life's roseate summer on thy cheek Burned in the flush of manhood's manliest year, Lonely, how lonely! is the snowy peak...
Eighty years have passed, and more, Since under the brave old tree Our fathers gathered in arms, and swore They would follow the sign their banners bore,...
Chicago sounds rough to the maker of verse; One comfort we have - Cincinnati sounds worse; If we only were licensed to say Chicago! But Worcester and Webster won't let us, you know. ...