THE SEA! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free… Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth’s wide region… It plays with the clouds; it mocks…

TOUCH us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently,'€”as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream. Humble voyagers are We,

Inesilla! I am here Thy own cavalier Is now beneath thy lattice playing… Why art thou delaying? He hath riden many a mile

When I was twenty inches long, I could not hear the thrush’s song… The radiance of the morning skies Was most displeasing to my eyes. For loving looks, caressing words,

Here’s a health to thee, Mary, Here’s a health to thee; The drinkers are gone, And I am alone, To think of home and thee, Mary.

I wakened on my hot, hard bed; Upon the pillow lay my head; Beneath the pillow I could hear My little watch was ticking clear. I thought the throbbing of it went

GAMARRA is a dainty steed, Strong, black, and of a noble bree… Full of fire, and full of bone, With all his line of fathers known… Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,

WE are born; we laugh; we weep; We love; we droop; we die! Ah! wherefore do we laugh or weep? Why do we live, or die? Who knows that secret deep?

TELL me, what is a poet’€™s thou… Is it on the sudden born? Is it from the starlight caught? Is it by the tempest taught, Or by whispering morn?

HOW many summers, love, Have I been thine? How many days, thou dove, Hast thou been mine? Time, like the winged wind

PEACE! what do tears avail? She lies all dumb and pale, And from her eye The spirit of lovely life is fadin… And she must die!

SIT down, sad soul, and count The moments flying: Come,'€”tell the sweet amount That '€™s lost by sighing! How many smiles?'€”a score?

A THOUSAND miles from land are… Tossing about on the roaring sea; From billow to bounding billow cas… Like fleecy snow on the stormy bla… The sails are scatter’d abroad, li…

I am a Witch, and a kind old Witc… There’s many a one knows that— Alone I live in my little dark ho… With Pillycock, my cat. A girl came running through the ni…

SING, I pray, a little song, Mother dear! Neither sad nor very long: It is for a little maid, Golden-tressed Adelaide!