Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast h… The priceless riches of all climes… Say, woudst thou let it float upon… Unpiloted, of fickle winds the spo… And of wild waves and hidden rocks…

I look down the lengthening distan… Far back to youth’s valley of hope… How strange seemed the ways of exi… How infinite life and its scope! What dreams, what ambitions came t…

Strange are the ways that her feet… Since first she was set in the pat… Finished and fair by the hand of… To carry her message of love and b… Delicate creature of light and sha…

We plucked a red rose, you and I All in the summer weather; Sweet its perfume and rare its blo… Enjoyed by us together. The rose is dead, the summer fled,

I think men’s great capacity for p… Proves his immortal birthright. I… No merely human mind could bear th… Of some tremendous sorrows we endu… Art’s most ingenious breastworks f…

Little by little the year grows ol… The red leaves drop from the maple… The sun grows dim, and the winds b… Down from the distant arctic seas. Out of the skies the soft light di…

Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes d… In the full meaning of that splend… Its subtle music which few men hav… Though all may hear it, sounding t… Its mountain heights by mystic bre…

What is the end of each man’s toil… Brother, O Brother? A handful of dust in a bit of soil… His name forgotten as centuries ro… Though blazoned to-day on Glory’s…

If I were a raindrop, and you wer… I would burst from the cloud above… And lie on your breast in a raptur… And love you, love you, love you. If I were a brown bee, and you we…

Show me the way that leads to the… I do not care what tempests may as… I shall be given courage for the s… I know my strength will not desert… I know that I shall conquer in th…

Two dead men boarded a spectral sh… In the astral Port of Space; On that ghost-filled barque, they… And halted, face to face. ‘Now whither away’– called one of…

All the aim of life is just Getting back to God. Spirit casting off its dust, Getting back to God. Every grief we have to bear

Wherever the white man’s feet have… (Oh far does the white man stray) A bold road rifles the virginal so… And the forest wakes out of its dr… To yield him the right of way.

Who has not felt his heart leap up… What time the tulips first begin t… Has one sweet joy, still left for… It is like early loves’ imagining; That fragile pleasure, which the…