The faintness of my heart When strife and evil rose, The worse and lesser part Which it for ever chose, God knows.

Oh! it’s good to be alive, man. Good to take the road and tramp. When the morning smells of meadows… And the lanes are cool and damp. And the little furry creatures

This is the Sabbath day, the day… That breathes so gently in this qu… With such insistent peace that for… The silver olives on the mountain’… Forget to whisper, folded in the g…

You’re just as pretty as the Day, That young and pink above the hill… Trips daintily along her way, With little breezy thrills. I know that when she steps to eart…

Time hangs suspended 'mid the perf… With limpid wings, o’er which the… Gleams like a tear, within the ten… Desirous eyes of love-lorn Destin… The earth is dumb, the scents of m…

What a lonely little corpse our lo… Very cold, and very still, and ver… Yet he throbbed with passion there… And we thought his every word divi… Have we both grown old, that neith…

Upon a Sunday afternoon, When no one else was by, The httle girl from Hanley way. She came and walked with I. We climbed nigh to the Beacon top…

Dear Ghost, across a wind-swept s… You wander back again to me, And I am not afraid, for see I bid you rest beside me here! I press your icy lips to mine,

Upon my life I bear one precious… Each night I kiss it, till anew i… And tell each drop of blood, as ha… Are told by those dear few who fai… To me it seems to beautify, not ma…

I weave my verses of smiles and te… Gathered and shed for you, I bind them up in the hopes of yea… Dear, will you read them through? I write my ballads of joy and pain…

The world that thro’ its vale of t… Looks out upon Eternity Has yet one smile for us, and we Still youthful in the count of yea… May add our smiles, and kiss the l…

The world has grown unreal to-day Far out upon the Zuyder Zee! We drift towards a mystic isle, With scarce a breath of wind the w… I hear the murmur of the tide,

Schwartz Wald I sought at dawn for the sweet whi… In hiding among the blue, The earth was warm with the summer… The flowers still damp with dew.

Where shall we make us a cosy home… Up in a high pine tree? Suppose the squirrel deserts his n… And we could only grow small and r… Under the twigs, laid so daintily,

Give me your hands to hold, For the night and the wind are col… And the year ‘s growing sad and ol… So give me your hands to hold. Give me your lips to press,