I START! I have slept for a mom… I have dreamt, sitting here by her… Oh, how lonely! What was it that… What presence, what heaven-sent ai… It was nothing, you say. But I tr…

TWO youths from a village set out… To seek their fortune the wide wor… One cried, ‘Hurra for the autumn… The other sighed, ‘Winter is almo… One failed, they said, for he neve…

‘I’LL have it, I tell you! Curse… The long knife glittered, was shea… The sawyer staggered and tripped a… And falling he uttered a frightene… His face to the sky, he shuddered…

THOSE are vulgar things we pay f… While the precious and the peerles… Common debts are scored and cancel… But the debts from men to ages, th… Always see, the noblest nations ke…

IN the Spring we see: Then the buds are dear to us—immat… In the Summer we live: When bright eyes are near to us, o… In the Autumn we love:

I CARE not for the outer voice That deals out praise or blame; I could not with the world rejoice Nor bear its doom of shame— But when the Voice within me spea…

There is one bright star in heaven Ever shining in my night; God to me one guide has given Like the sailor’s beacon light, Set on every shoal of danger

I told her a story, a fairy story, My little daughter with eyes of bl… And with clear, wide gaze as the s… She always asked me—'Oh, is it tr… Always that word when the wonder r…

LASHED to the planet, glaring a… An eagle at his heart—the Pagan C… Why is it, Mystery? O, dumb Dark… Have always men, with loving heart… Made devils of their gods?

The dead who died for Ireland! Oh, these are living words To nerve the hearts of patriots— To steel avenging swords— They thrill the soul when spoken,

I WROTE down my troubles every… And after a few short years, When I turned to the heart-aches… I read them with smiles, not tears…

A GOD-LIKE face, with human lo… And tender fancy traced in every l… A god-like face, but oh, how human… Dear Keats, who love the gods the…

JOYS have three stages, Hoping,… The hands of Hope are empty, and… For the joy we take, in the taking… Now, which is the better—the joy u…

DIXON, a Choctaw, twenty years… Had killed a miner in a Leadville… Tried and condemned, the rough-bea… And watch him stride in freedom fr… ‘Return on Friday, to be shot to…

THERE are times when a dream del… Steals into a musing hour, Like a face with love capricious That peeps from a woodland bower; And one dear scene comes changeles…