Couched in the rocky lap of hills, Could we but know, Could you come back to me, Douglas, Count each affliction, whether light or grave, Crushing the scarlet strawberries in the grass, Darkness before, all joy behind! Dashing in big drops on the narrow pane; Day, like a flower, blossoms from the night, Dear Ellen, your tales are all plenteously stored, Dear friend, I know not if such days and nights, Death but entombs the body; Death is here, and death is there, Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Dey vented to the Opera Haus, Didst thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast, Did you hear of the Widow Malone, Die down, O dismal day, and let me live; Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars, Discard soft nonsense in a slavish tongue,. Discourage not thyself, my soul, Disdain me not without desert, Distrust that word. Do, and suffer naught in vain; Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Dost thou remember that autumnal day, Do you remember, my sweet, absent son, Earl March looked on his dying child, Erewhile the sap has had its will, Eternal spirit of the chainless mind, Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky, Even as a nurse, whose child's impatient pace, Every coin of earthly treasure, Every wedding, says the proverb, Fair as the dawn of the fairest day, Fair time of calm resolve-of sober thought Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! Farewell, old friend, we part at last; Farewell, Renown! Too fleeting flower, Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race, For every sin that comes before the light,. "Forget me not." Ah, words of useless warning, For him who must see many years, For Love I labored all the day, For mystery is man's life, . Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched, For us the almond tree, . For woman is not undeveloped man, Four straight brick walls, severely plain, Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood, Friend after friend departs; . Friendship, like love is but a name, Friends of faces unknown and a land, Friend, whose smile has come to be, . Frolic virgins once these were, From the morning even until now, From you have I been absent in the Spring, Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,. Gallants, attend, and hear a friend, Gay, guiltless pair, Gayly and greenly let my seasons run, Gay sprightly land of mirth and social case, Genius! thou gift of Heaven! thou light divine! Girt with the grove's aerial sigh, "Give me a motto," said a youth,. "Give me a son." The blessing sent, Give place, ye lovers, here before,. "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried, God bless the man who first invented sleep, God loves from whole to parts; but human soul, God makes such nights, all white an' still, God said, "Let there be light!' God send me tears! God sets some souls in shade, alone, Go, forget me- why should sorrow, Go forth in life, O friend! not seeking love, Go not, happy day, Good men are the health of the world, Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill, Good-night, pretty sleepers of mine, Go, sophist! dare not to despoil, Go, soul, the body's guest,. "Got any boys?" the marshal said, Grandmother's mother: her age I guess, Pope,. Green be the turf above thee, Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!. Hail, free, clear heavens! above our heads again,. Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour,. Hamelin town's in Brunswick, Hand in hand with angels, Happy are they who kiss thee, morn and even, Hark! 'tis the twanging horn! o'er yonder bridge, Hark! where the sweeping scythe now rips along, Hath this world without me wrought, Lazarus, 336 Milton, 381 Have mind that age aye follows youth, Have you not heard the poets tell, Dunbar,. 208 T. B. Aldrich, 8 He erred, no doubt, perhaps he sinned: Hearing sweet music, as in fell despite,. Heart of my heart! when that great light shall fall, Heaven weeps above the earth all night till morn, He falters on the threshold, Trench,. 605 He had playel for his lordship's lévée, He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, Hence, vain deluding joys, Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere, Here she lies, a pretty bud, Here, too, came one who bartered all for power, Her hands are cold, her face is white; Her suffering ended with the day; He saw in sight of his house, He sins against this life who slights the next. He taught the cheerfulness that still is ours, He that loves a rosy cheek, He took the suffering human race, He touched his harp, and nations heard, He was a man of that unsleeping spirit, He was a man whom danger could not daunt, He was in logic a great critic, He, while his troop light-hearted He who hath bent him o'er the dead, S. Butler, 700 Milton, 375 Rogers, 461 Milton, 376 ୪ 780 681 853 602 How miserable a thing is a great man! How much the heart may bear, and yet not break How near we came the land of death, How oft in visions of the night,. How one can live on beauty and be rich, How pure at heart and sound in head, How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits, How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, How sweet and gracious, even in common speech, Husband and wife! no converse now ye hold, I am an idle reed. the quiet room,. Bryant, 78 W. Collins, 145 hunchbacked, look you,. I am but clay in thy hands, but Thou, I am content, I do not care, I am dying. Egypt, dying, I'm far trae my hame, and I'm weary aftenwhiles: I am Hephaistos, and forever here, I am monarch of all I survey, I am Nicholas Tacchinardi, I am thinking to-night of the little child; . I asked my fair, one happy day, I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, I can go nowhere but I meet, I cannot love thee, but I hold thee dear I cannot make him dead! 1 care not, Fortune, what you me deny: I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn, I count my time by times that I meet thee, I die for thy sweet love! The ground, I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair, I do not own an inch of land, I don't go much on religion, I'd rather see an empty bough, I dreamed I had a plot of ground,. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, I fear thee not, O Death! nay, oft I pine, If I could ever sing the songs, If I had known in the morning, If I had thought thou couldst lave died, If it must be-if it must be, O God!. If life awake and will never cease, If love were what the rose is, If on the book itself we cast our view, If on this verse of mine, I found a fellow-worker, when I deemed, If, sitting with this little worn-out shoe, Lytle, E. Arnold, O'Shaughnessy, M. R. Smith, If those, who live in shepherd's bower, . If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, If, when you labor all the day, I gave my little girl back to the daisies, I gazed upon the glorious sky, I give thee treasures hour by hour, I greet thee, loving letter I grew assured before I asked, I hat von funny leedle poy, I have a little kinsman,. I have been sitting alone, I have had playmates, I have had companions, I hear it often in the dark, I know a bright and beauteous May, I know a girl with teeth of pearl, I know not how it is; I know that all beneath the moon decays; I lie in the summer meadows, I like a church; I like a cowl; "I'll take the orchard path," she said, I long have been puzzled to guess, I long have had a quarrel set with Time, I lost my treasures one by one,. I loved thee long and dearly,. I love to look on a scene like this,. I'm not a chicken! I have seen, I'm not where I was yesterday, I mourn no more my vanished years, I must lament, Nature commands it so: I'm wearin' awa', Jean, In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, In a valley, centuries ago,. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read, I never cast a flower away, In every village marked with little spire, In hazy gold the hillside sleeps, In later years veiling its unblest face, In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, In my nostrils, the summer wind, In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed,. In purple robes old Sliavnamon, In schools of wisdom all the day was spent: In silent ease, at least in silence, dine, In the balmy April weather,. In the dewy depths of the grave-yard, In Thee, O blessed God, I hope, In the fireshine at the twilight, In the garden of death, where the singers, In the hour of my distress, In these deep solitudes and awful cells,' In the spring, perverse and sour, In the stormy waters of Galloway, In the warm valley, rich in summer's wealth, Into a city street, Into a ward of the whitewashed walls, In yonder grave a Druid lies, I once was a jolly young beau, I only polished am in mine own dust I prithee send me back my heart, I remember, I remember, I said, if I might go back again, I sat in a darkened chamber,. I saw a child, once, that had lost its way, |