Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day, While kneeling at the altar’s foot… Alone with God, as was his pious… Heard from without a miserable voi… A sound which seemed of all sad th…

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE’S… THE tall, sallow guardsmen their… Flaming out in their violet, yello… And behind go the lackeys in crims… And the chamberlains gorgeous in v…

Still, as of old, in Beavor’s Val… O man of God! our hope and faith The Elements and Stars assail, And the awed spirit holds its brea… Blown over by a wind of death.

FRIENDof the Slave, and yet the… Lover of peace, yet ever foremost… The need of battling Freedom call… To plant the banner on the outer w… Gentle and kindly, ever at distres…

On the isle of Penikese, Ringed about by sapphire seas, Fanned by breezes salt and cool, Stood the Master with his school. Over sails that not in vain

They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead… That all of thee we loved and cher… Has with thy summer roses perished… And left, as its young beauty fled… An ashen memory in its stead,

Out from Jerusalem The king rode with his great War chiefs and lords of state, And Sheba’s queen with them; Comely, but black withal,

IN Westminster’s royal halls, Robed in their pontificals, England’s ancient prelates stood For the people’s right and good. Closed around the waiting crowd,

A tender child of summers three, Seeking her little bed at night, Paused on the dark stair timidly. ‘Oh, mother! Take my hand,’ said… ‘And then the dark will all be lig…

1775. No Berserk thirst of blood had th… No battle-joy was theirs, who set Against the alien bayonet Their homespun breasts in that old…

I write my name as one, On sands by waves o’errun Or winter’s frosted pane, Traces a record vain. Oblivion’s blankness claims

O Norah, lay your basket down, And rest your weary hand, And come and hear me sing a song Of our old Ireland. There was a lord of Galaway,

THE Rabbi Ishmael, with the woe… Of the world heavy upon him, enter… The Holy of Holies, saw an awful… With terrible splendor filling all… ‘O Ishmael Ben Elisha!’ said a v…

Maud Muller on a summer’s day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the we… Of simple beauty and rustic health… Singing, she wrought, and her merr…

THE SUMMER warmth has left the… The summer songs have died away; And, withered, in the footpaths li… The fallen leaves, but yesterday With ruby and with topaz gay.