I need not ask thee, for my sake, To read a book which well may make Its way by native force of wit Without my manual sign to it. Its piquant writer needs from me

Dead Petra in her hill-tomb sleep… Her stones of emptiness remain; Around her sculptured mystery swee… The lonely waste of Edom’s plain. From the doomed dwellers in the cl…

I write my name as one, On sands by waves o’errun Or winter’s frosted pane, Traces a record vain. Oblivion’s blankness claims

As a guest who may not stay Long and sad farewells to say Glides with smiling face away, Of the sweetness and the zest Of thy happy life possessed

Last week the Lord be praised for… To His unworthy servant! I arrive… Safe at the Mission, via Westport… I tarried over night, to aid in fo… A Vigilance Committee, to send ba…

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,

Stand still, my soul, in the silen… I would question thee, Alone in the shadow drear and star… With God and me! What, my soul, was thy errand here…

In the outskirts of the village On the river’s winding shores Stand the Occidental plane-trees, Stand the ancient sycamores. One long century hath been numbere…

PRELUDE ALONG the roadside, like the flo… That tawny Incas for their garden… Heavy with sunshine droops the gol… And the red pennons of the cardina…

The gulf of seven and fifty years We stretch our welcoming hands acr… The distance but a pebble’s toss Between us and our youth appears. For in life’s school we linger on

Tauler, the preacher, walked, one… Without the walls of Strasburg, b… Pondering the solemn Miracle of L… As one who, wandering in a starles… Feels momently the jar of unseen w…

Where the Great Lake’s sunny smil… Dimple round its hundred isles, And the mountain’s granite ledge Cleaves the water like a wedge, Ringed about with smooth, gray sto…

The fourteen centuries fall away Between us and the Afric saint, And at his side we urge, to-day, The immemorial quest and old compl… No outward sign to us is given,—

THE suns of eighteen centuries ha… Since the Redeemer walked with ma… The fisher’s boat, the cavern’s fl… And mountain moss, a pillow for H… And He, who wandered with the pea…

Not on Penobscot’s wooded bank th… Of the sought City rose, nor yet… The winding Charles, nor where th… Of Naumkeag’s haven rises and ret… The vision tarried; but somewhere…