‘Spring-germs, spring-germs, I charge you by your life, go back… This glebe is sick, this wind is f… Stay: feed the worms. ’Oh! every clod

‘Thou Ship of Earth, with Death,… And fires of Desires burning hotl… I fear thee, O! I fear thee, for… At battle on the deck, and the wil… ’The dewdrop morn may fall from of…

Life swelleth in a whitening wave, And dasheth thee and me apart. I sweep out seaward:— be thou brav… And reach the shore, Sweetheart. Beat back the backward-thrusting s…

“Order A. P. Hill to prepare for… “Tell Major Hawks to advance the… “Let us cross the river and rest i… The stars of Night contain the gl… And rain his glory down with sweet…

In the South lies a lonesome, hun… He huddles his rags with a cripple… He mutters, prone on the barren sa… What time his heart is breaking. He lifts his bare head from the gr…

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle… Then vanish, and die utterly. One would not know that rain-drops… If the round sea-wrinkles did not… So souls come down and wrinkle lif…

Als du im Saal mit deiner himmlis… Beethoven zeigst, und seinem Will… Mit den zehn Fingern fuehrst der… Zehn Zungen sagen was der Meister… Schauend dich an, ich seh’, dass n…

I.—Red. Would that my songs might be What roses make by day and night— Distillments of my clod of misery Into delight.

A Story of Christmas Eve. Strange that the termagant winds s… The Christmas Eve so bitterly! But Wife, and Harry the four-year… Big Charley, Nimblewits, and I,

Hey, rose, just born Twin to a thorn; Was’t so with you, O Love and Sc… Sweet eyes that smiled, Now wet and wild:

That air same Jones, which lived… He had this pint about him: He’d swear with a hundred sighs an… That farmers MUST stop gittin’ l… And git along without 'em:

In the heart of the Hills of Life… Two springs that with unbroken flo… Forever pour their lucent streams Into my soul’s far Lake of Dreams… Not larger than two eyes, they lie

If spicy-fringed pinks that blush… With passions of perfume,—if viole… That hint of heaven with odor more… If perfect roses, each a holy Gra… Wherefrom the blood of beauty doth…

So one in heart and thought, I tr… That thou might’st press the strin… And both would meet in music sweet… Thou and I, I trow.

Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chi… Complain no more; for these, O he… Direct the random of the will As rhymes direct the rage of art. The lute’s fixt fret, that runs at…