#Americans #XIXCentury
I heard the bells on Christmas da… Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repea… Of peace on earth, good will to me… I thought how, as the day had come…
The battle is fought and won By King Ladislaus, the Hun, In fire of hell and death’s frost, On the day of Pentecost. And in rout before his path
When the summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flo… And the dry leaves strew the path; With the falling of the snow, With the cawing of the crow,
Othere, the old sea-captain, Who dwelt in Helgoland, To King Alfred, the Lover of Tru… Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth, Which he held in his brown right h…
"O Cæsar, we who are about to die Salute you!" was the gladiators’ c… In the arena, standing face to fac… With death and with the Roman pop… O ye familiar scenes,—ye groves of…
God sent his Singers upon earth With songs of sadness and of mirth… That they might touch the hearts o… And bring them back to heaven agai… The first, a youth, with soul of f…
Will ever the dear days come back… Those days of June, when lilacs w… And bluebirds sang their sonnets i… Of leaves that roofed them in from… I know not; but a presence will re…
Garlands upon his grave And flowers upon his hearse, And to the tender heart and brave The tribute of this verse. His was the troubled life,
Annie of Tharaw, my true love of… She is my life, and my goods, and… Annie of Tharaw, her heart once a… To me has surrendered in joy and i… Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my go…
On the green little isle of Inchk… Who is it that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highland blue bon… So brave with his targe and claymo… His form is the form of a giant,
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms
On St. Bavon’s tower, commanding Half of Flanders, his domain, Charles the Emperor once was stan… While beneath him on the landing Stood Duke Alva and his train.
Out of the bosom of the Air Out of the cloud-folds of her garm… Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow
This is the Arsenal. From floor… Like a huge organ, rise the burnis… But front their silent pipes no an… Startles the villages with strange… Ah! what a sound will rise, how wi…
For thee was a house built Ere thou wast born, For thee was a mould meant Ere thou of mother camest. But it is not made ready,