HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o’… Through cane-brake and forest,—the… The lords of our land to this hunt… As the fox-hunter follows the soun… Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the…

OUR fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves, in a land of light and law… Slaves, crouching on the very plai… Where rolled the storm of Freedom… A groan from Eutaw’s haunted wood…

As Islam’s Prophet, when his last… Nigh to its close, besought all me… Whom he had wronged, to whom he th… A debt forgotten, or for pardon su… And, through the silence of his we…

Bland as the morning breath of Ju… The southwest breezes play; And, through its haze, the winter… Seems warm as summer’s day. The snow-plumed Angel of the Nort…

All day the darkness and the cold Upon my heart have lain, Like shadows on the winter sky, Like frost upon the pane; But now my torpid fancy wakes,

In the old days (a custom laid asi… With breeches and cocked hats) the… Their wisest men to make the publi… And so, from a brown homestead, wh… Drinks the small tribute of the M…

IT was late in mild October, and… Had left the summer harvest-fields… The first sharp frosts had fallen,… With the hues of summer’s rainbow,… Through a thin, dry mist, that mor…

The fagots blazed, the caldron’s s… Up through the green wood curled; ‘Bring honey from the hollow oak, Bring milky sap,’ the brewers spok… In the childhood of the world.

How sweetly come the holy psalms From saints and martyrs down, The waving of triumphal palms Above the thorny crown The choral praise, the chanted pra…

‘The cross, if rightly borne, shal… No burden, but support to thee;’ So, moved of old time for our sake… The holy monk of Kempen spake. Thou brave and true one! upon whom

WITH COPIES OF THE A… Friend of mine! whose lot was cast With me in the distant past; Where, like shadows flitting fast, Fact and fancy, thought and theme,

Piero Luca, known of all the town As the gray porter by the Pitti w… Where the noon shadows of the gard… Sick and in dolor, waited to lay d… His last sad burden, and beside hi…

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To H… Gone, gone, - sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swi… Where the noisome insect stings

Blossom and greenness, making all The winter birthday tropical, And the plain Quaker parlors gay, Have gone from bracket, stand, and… We saw them fade, and droop, and f…

I have not felt, o’er seas of sand… The rocking of the desert bark; Nor laved at Hebron’s fount my ha… By Hebron’s palm-trees cool and d… Nor pitched my tent at even-fall,