Youth! ere thou be flown away. Surely one last boon to-day Thou’lt bestow– One last light of rapture give, Rich and lordly fugitive!

Last night the seawind was to me A metaphor of liberty, And every wave along the beach A starlit music seemed to be. To-day the seawind is to me

A squalid, hideous town, where str… With vomit of a hundred roaring mi… Hither occasion calls me; and ev’n… All in the sable reek that wantonl… Defames the sunlight and deflowers…

‘NOT ours,’ say some, 'the though…    Asking no heaven, we fear no fa… Life is a feast, and we have banqu…    Shall not the worms as well? ‘The after-silence, when the feast…

I saunter all about the pleasant p… You made thrice pleasant, O my fr… But you are gone where laughs in r… That thousand-memoried unimpulsive… To storied precincts of the southe…

God-seeking thou hast journeyed fa… On dawn-lit mountain-tops thy soul… To hear His trailing garments wan… And where 'mid thunderous glooms g… Vainly thou sought’st His shadow…

[Mr. Oscar Wilde, having discover… And wilt thou, Oscar, from us fle… And must we, henceforth, wholly se… Shall thy laborious _jeux-d’esprit… Sadden our lives no more for ever?

Often ornateness Goes with greatness; Oftener felicity Comes of simplicity. Talent that’s cheapest

Five-and-thirty black slaves, Half-a-hundred white, All their duty but to sing For their Queen’s delight, Now with throats of thunder,

Yes! urban is your Muse, and owns An empire based on London stones; Yet flow’rs, as mountain violets s… Spring from the pavement 'neath he… Of wilder birth this Muse of mine…

But Sleep, who makes a mist about… Doth ope the eyelids of the soul,… Lifteth a heavier cloud than that… He veils the vision of the fleshly… And not alone by dreams doth Slee…

O King of kings, that watching fr… Sufferest the monster of Ust-Kara… With bosom than Siberia’s wastes… And hear’st the wail of captives c… And sett’st no sign in heaven! Sh…

Spouse whom my sword in the olden… Winning me hatred more sharp than… Mother of children who hiss at or… Curse or revile me, and hold me ab… Heiress of anger that nothing assu…

In the night, in the night, When thou liest alone, Ah, the sounds that are blown In the freaks of the breeze, By the spirit that sends

City that waitest to be sung,— For whom no hand To mighty strains the lyre hath st… In all this land, Though mightier theme the mighties…