OLD friend, that with a pale and… Climbest the lush hedgerows, art t… Marking the slow round of the wond… Didst beckon me a moment, silent f… Silent? As silent is the archange…

UNTIL her death!' the words read… Like things afar off suddenly brou… Will it be slow or speedy, full of… Or calm as a spent day of peace id… II.

AH, little Grace of the golden lo… The hills rise fair on the shores… As the merry waves wear out these… She wears my heart out, glides pas… But heaven’s gate ever stands open…

LABORARE est orare: We, black-visaged sons of toil, From the coal-mine and the anvil And the delving of the soil,— From the loom, the wharf, the ware…

YOU said, last night, you did not… In all the world of men Was one true lover—true alike In deed and word and pen;— One knightly lover, constant as

ALICE, Alice, little Alice, My new-christened baby Alice, Can there ever rhymes be found To express my wishes for thee In a silvery flowing, worthy

TWO PORTRAITS. A PLEASANT picture, full of me… Old age, calm sitting in the July… On withered hands half-leaning—fee… That after their life-labors, ligh…

SING away, ay, sing away, Merry little bird, Always gayest of the gay, Though a woodland roundelay You ne’er sung nor heard;

I SHALL not paint them. God the… No other can, nor need. They have… I may not close with human kisses… Their eyes which shine afar or fro… But never will shine nearer till…

TWO hands upon the breast, And labor’s done; Two pale feet crossed in rest— The race is won; Two eyes with coin-weights shut,

Could ye come back to me, Douglas… In the old likeness that I knew, I would be so faithful, so loving,… Douglas, Douglas, tender and true… Never a scornful word should griev…

OUT upon the unknown deep, Where the unheard oceans sound, Where the unseen islands sleep,— Outward bound. Following towards the silent west

THE thin white snow-streaks penci… That mountain’s shoulder gray, While in the west the pale green s… Smiled back the dawning day, Till from the misty east the sun

METHOUGHT I saw thee yesterni… Sit by me in the olden guise, The white robes and the pain foreg… Weaving instead of amaranth crown A web of mortal dyes.

IT is but a little while ago: The elm-leaves have scarcely begun… The sunbeams strike the elm-trunk… Yet all seems to have happened lon… And the year rolleth round, slow,…