Said Christ our Lord, ‘I will go… How the men, my brethren, believe… He passed not again through the ga… But made himself known to the chil… Then said the chief priests, and r…

As one who, from the sunshine and… Enters the solid darkness of a cav… Nor knows what precipice or pit un… May yawn before him with its sudde… And, with hushed breath, doth ofte…

As a twig trembles, which a bird Lights on to sing, then leaves unb… So is my memory thrilled and stirr… I only know she came and went. As clasps some lake, by gusts unri…

Still thirteen years: ’tis autumn… On field and hill, in heart and br… The naked trees at evening sough; The leaf to the forsaken bough Sighs not,- '_Auf wiedersehen!_’

The night is dark, the stinging sl… Swept by the bitter gusts of air, Drives whistling down the lonely s… And glazes on the pavement bare. The street-lamps flare and struggl…

They are slaves who fear to speak, For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who will not choos… Hatred, scoffing and abuse; Rather than in silence shrink,

Such was he, our Martyr-Chief, Whom late the Nation he had led, With ashes on her head, Wept with the passion of an angry… Forgive me, if from present things…

The moon shines white and silent On the mist, which, like a tide Of some enchanted ocean, O’er the wide marsh doth glide, Spreading its ghost-like billows

A FRAGMENT Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast Of bisons the far prairie shaking, The notes crowd heavily and fast As surfs, one plunging while the l…

He spoke of Burns: men rude and r… Pressed round to hear the praise o… Whose heart was made of manly, sim… As homespun as their own. And, when he read, they forward le…

Beauty on my hearth-stone blazing! To-night the triple Zoroaster Shall my prophet be and master; To-night will I pure Magian be, Hymns to thy sole honor raising,

’Tis a woodland enchanted! By no sadder spirit Than blackbirds and thrushes, That whistle to cheer it All day in the bushes.

I go to the ridge in the forest I haunted in days gone by, But thou, O Memory, pourest No magical dropp in mine eye, Nor the gleam of the secret restor…

Sleep is Death’s image,-poets tel… But Absence is the bitter self of… And, you away, Life’s lips their… Parched in an air unfreshened by y… Light of those eyes that made the…

Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal… Calmly beneath her earnest face it… Free without boldness, meek withou… Quicker to look than speak its sym… Far down into her large and patien…