#Americans #Victorians
The voice that sings across the ni… Of long forgotten days and things, Is there an ear to hear aright The voice that sings? It is as when a curfew rings
Sweetheart, that thou art fair I… More fair to me Than flowers that make the lovelie… To tempt the bee. When other girls, whose faces are,
I know the garden-close of sin, The cloying fruits, the noxious fl… I long have roamed the walks and b… Desiring what no man shall win: A secret place to shelter in,
Despair is in the suns that shine, And in the rains that fall, This sad forsaken soul of mine Is weary of them all. They fall and shine on alien stree…
Of our own will we are not free, When freedom lies within our power… We wait for some decisive hour, To rise and take our liberty. Still we delay, content to be
I hear a twittering of birds, And now they burst in song. How sweet, although it wants the w… It shall not want them long, For I will set some to the note
He brought a team from Inversnaid To play our Third Fifteen, A man whom none of us had played And very few had seen. He weighed not less than eighteen…
It seems a little word to say - FAREWELL—but may it not, when… Be like the kiss we give the dead, Before they pass the doors for aye… Who knows if, on some after day,
Last night, when at parting Awhile we did stand, Suddenly starting, There fell on my hand Something that burned it,
Last night for the first time, O… I held your hand a moment in my ow… The dearest moment which my soul h… Since I beheld and loved you at f… I left you, and I wandered in the…
I met him down upon the pier, His eyes were wild and sad, And something in them made me fear That he was going mad. So, being of a prudent sort,
The Session’s over. We must say f… To these east winds and to this ea… For summer comes, with swallow and… With many a flower and many a golf… No more the horribly discordant be…
The city once again doth wear Her wonted dress of winter’s bride… Her mantle woven of misty air, With saffron sunlight faintly dyed… She sits above the seething tide,
Blue, blue is the sea to-day, Warmly the light Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay— Blue, fringed with white. That’s no December sky!
A day of gladness yet will dawn, Though when I cannot say; Perhaps it may be Thursday week, Perhaps some other day,— When man, freed from the bond of c…