Watchman, watchman, what of the ni… What of the night to tell? The heavens are dark, and never a… But the far-off flicker of Hell. But the steed is in the stall,

Across the Glory of the glowing s… A veil is drawn of shadowed mists… From lavishness from God’s late g… So, after farewell said, fond memo… Of words and looks, now over, come…

If one should strive to reach a st… He would not build a ladder high, Seek foot by foot to climb so far, And step by step ascend the sky; But he would seek the wild bird’s…

‘HERE’ Soft benediction of September sun… Voices of children, laughing as th… Green English lawns, bright flowe… And over all the blue embracing sk…

Who knows the deeps, where the wat… Leagues from the light away? Who knows the heights, where myria… Fill heaven with endless day? The earth goes on—seeks and loses…

LONG ago, on a bright spring day… I passed a little child at play; And as I passed, in childish glee She called to me, “Come and play… But my eyes were fixed on a far-of…

THE LARK above our heads doth k… A heaven we see not here below; She sees it, and for joy she sings… Then falls with ineffectual wings. Ah, soaring soul! faint not nor ti…

She turned the page of wounds and… With trembling fingers. In a brea… The gladness of her life became Naught but a memory and a name. Farewell! Farewell! I might not s…

The dews were on the hedges, The mist was on the mead, When down among the sedges I wrought my pipe of reed. I blew my pipe with power.

Light falls the rain On link and laine, After the burning day; And the bright scene, Blue, gold, and green,

Not here in the populous town, In the playhouse or mart, Not here in the ways gray and brow… Bnt afar on the green-swelling dow… Is the home of my heart.

Hark! ’tis the rush of the horses, The crash of the galloping gun! The stars are out of their courses… The hour of Doom has begun. Leap from thy scabbard, O sword!

What have I given, Bold sailor on the sea? In earth or heaven, That you should die for me? What can I give,

White-faced Winter Roses, O’er the grave I plant you Where the dead reposes, That a soul may haunt you, And your ghostly whiteness