Yes, the weary earth shall brighten - Brighten in the perfect day, And the fields that now but whiten, Golden glow beneath the ray! Slowly swelling in her bosom, Long the precious seed has lain, -...
Yes, yes, when, the bloom of Love's boyhood is o'er, He'll turn into friendship that feels no decay; And, tho' Time may take from him the wings he once wore, The charms that remain will be bright as before,...
Yet at the last, ere our spearmen had found him, Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save, Yet at the last, with his masters around him, He spoke of the Faith as a master to slave....
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: Not loathe to furnish weapons for the Bands...
Yonder see the morning blink: The sun is up, and up must I, To wash and dress and eat and drink And look at things and talk and think And work, and God knows why. ...
You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease, Within this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas. It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose,...
There was a girl in our town Who dearly loved to flirt, But the home folks never noticed it at all. The women in the neighborhood All said she was too pert, But she never even noticed them at all. ...
You'd entertain the universe in bed, Foul woman; ennui makes you mean of soul. To exercise your jaws at this strange sport Each day you work a heart between your teeth. Your eyes, illuminated like boutiques...
You don't believe -- I won't attempt to make ye: You are asleep -- I won't attempt to wake ye. Sleep on! sleep on! while in your pleasant dreams Of Reason you may drink of Life's clear streams....
You felons on trial in courts; You convicts in prison-cells, you sentenced assassins, chain'd and hand-cuff'd with iron; Who am I, too, that I am not on trial, or in prison?...
You mustn't show weakness and you've got to have a tan. But sometimes I feel like the thin veils of Jewish women who faint at weddings and on Yom Kippur.
You never can tell when you send a word, Like an arrow shot from a bow By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind, Just where it may chance to go. It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend....