LONGFELLOW. WITH a glory of winter sunshine Over his locks of gray, In the old historic mansion He sat on his last birthday;

Maud Muller on a summer’s day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the we… Of simple beauty and rustic health… Singing, she wrought, and her merr…

Weary of jangling noises never sti… The skeptic’s sneer, the bigot’s h… Of clashing texts, the webs of cre… Round simple truth, the children g… With gilded cards their new Jerus…

I love the old melodious lays Which softly melt the ages through… The songs of Spenser’s golden day… Arcadian Sidney’s silvery phrase, Sprinkling our noon of time with f…

Still linger in our noon of time And on our Saxon tongue The echoes of the home-born hymns The Aryan mothers sung. And childhood had its litanies

‘The cross, if rightly borne, shal… No burden, but support to thee;’ So, moved of old time for our sake… The holy monk of Kempen spake. Thou brave and true one! upon whom

Leagues north, as fly the gull and… Point Judith watches with eye of… Leagues south, thy beacon flames,… Lonely and wind-shorn, wood-forsak… With never a tree for Spring to w…

‘Encore un hymne, O ma lyre Un hymn pour le Seigneur, Un hymne dans mon delire, Un hymne dans mon bonheur.’ One hymn more, O my lyre!

THE storm and peril overpast, The hounding hatred shamed and sti… Go, soul of freedom! take at last The place which thou alone canst f… Confirm the lesson taught of old—

AN ALGONQUIN LEGEND. HAPPY young friends, sit by me, Under May’s blown apple-tree, While these home-birds in and out Through the blossoms flit about.

A cloud, like that the old-time H… On Carmel prophesying rain, began To lift itself o’er wooded Cardig… Growing and blackening. Suddenly,… Of chill wind menaced; then a stro…

No bird-song floated down the hill… The tangled bank below was still; No rustle from the birchen stem, No ripple from the water’s hem. The dusk of twilight round us grew…

God’s love and peace be with thee,… Soe’er this soft autumnal air Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair… Whether through city casements com… Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms…

When first I saw our banner wave Above the nation’s council-hall, I heard beneath its marble wall The clanking fetters of the slave! In the foul market-place I stood,

From Institutes of Manu. The soul itself its awful witness… Say not in evil doing, ‘No one se… And so offend the conscious One w… Whose ear can hear the silences of…