Not premeditated THE clock has struck noon; ere it… We shall meet round the table that… And I shall blush deeper with sha… That I came to the banquet and br…

IN the hour of twilight shadows The Pilgrim sire looked out; He thought of the 'bloudy Salvage… That lurked all round about, Of Wituwamet’s pictured knife

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt! Long years have o’er her flown; Yet still she strains the aching c… That binds her virgin zone; I know it hurts her,—though she lo…

THE minstrel of the classic lay Of love and wine who sings Still found the fingers run astray That touched the rebel strings. Of Cadmus he would fain have sung…

OLD Rip Van Winkle had a grands… Of the paternal block a genuine ch… A lazy, sleepy, curious kind of ch… He, like his grandsire, took a mig… Whereof the story I propose to te…

A sick man’s chamber, though it of… The grateful presence of a literal… Can hardly claim, amidst its vario… The right unchallenged to propose… Yet though its tenant is denied th…

NOT charity we ask, Nor yet thy gift refuse; Please thy light fancy with the ea… Only to look and choose. The little-heeded toy

‘A SPANISH GIRL IN REVER… SHE twirled the string of golden… That round her neck was hung,—- My grandsire’s gift; the good old… Loved girls when he was young;

I BRING the simplest pledge of… Friend of my earlier days; Mine is the hand without the glove… The heart-beat, not the phrase. How few still breathe this mortal…

1862 'T is midnight: through my trouble… Loud wails the tempest’s cry; Before the gale, with tattered sai… A ship goes plunging by.

WHEN evening’s shadowy fingers f… The flowers of every hue, Some shy, half-opened bud will hol… Its drop of morning’s dew. Sweeter with every sunlit hour

ALONE, beneath the darkened sky, With saddened heart and unstrung l… I heap the spoils of years gone by… And leave them with a long-drawn s… Like drift-wood brands that glimme…

THAT age was older once than now… In spite of locks untimely shed, Or silvered on the youthful brow; That babes make love and children… That sunshine had a heavenly glow,

FESTIVAL OF THE ALUMNI, 1… THE noon of summer sheds its ray On Harvard’s holy ground; The Matron calls, the sons obey, And gather smiling round.

WHAT is a poet’s love?— To write a girl a sonnet, To get a ring, or some such thing, And fustianize upon it. What is a poet’s fame?—