ALL grim and soiled and brown wit… I saw a Strong One, in his wrath, Smiting the godless shrines of man Along his path. The Church, beneath her trembling…

Out and in the river is winding The links of its long, red chain, Through belts of dusky pine-land And gusty leagues of plain. Only, at times, a smoke-wreath

THE years are but half a score, And the war-whoop sounds no more With the blast of bugles, where Straight into a slaughter pen, With his doomed three hundred men,

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…

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM… On page of thine I cannot trace The cold and heartless commonplace… A statue’s fixed and marble grace. For ever as these lines I penned,

Addressed to Francis Greenleaf A… You scarcely need my tardy thanks, Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend… A green leaf on your own Green Ba… The memory of your friend.

LOOK on him! through his dungeon… Feebly and cold, the morning light Comes stealing round him, dim and… As if it loathed the sight. Reclining on his strawy bed,

IT chanced that while the pious t… Fought in the crusade Pio Nono pr… What time the holy Bourbons staye… (The Hur and Aaron meet for such… Stretched forth from Naples towar…

PRELUDE ALONG the roadside, like the flo… That tawny Incas for their garden… Heavy with sunshine droops the gol… And the red pennons of the cardina…

ALL night above their rocky bed They saw the stars march slow; The wild Sierra overhead, The desert’s death below. The Indian from his lodge of bark…

Though flowers have perished at th… Of Frost, the early comer, I hail the season loved so much, The good St. Martin’s summer. O gracious morn, with rose-red daw…

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,

O Dearly loved! And worthy of our love! No more Thy aged form shall rise before The bushed and waiting worshiper, In meek obedience utterance giving

‘I do believe, and yet, in grief, I pray for help to unbelief; For needful strength aside to lay The daily cumberings of my way. ’I 'm sick at heart of craft and c…

In the fair land o’erwatched by I… Across the charmed bay Whose blue waves keep with Capri’… Perpetual holiday, A king lies dead, his wafer duly e…