HE died not as the martyr dies, Wrapped in his living shroud of fl… He fell not as the warrior falls, Gasping upon the field of fame; A gentler passage to the grave,

THERE 's a thing that grows by t… And springs in the shade of the la… The lily shrinks, and the rose tur… When they feel its breath in the s… And the tulip curls its leaves in…

I HAVE come with my verses—I th… It is not the first time I have t… They were puckered in rhyme, they… But your hearts were so large that… I have come—not to tease you with…

‘Dumque virent genua Et decet, obducta solvatur fonte s… THE muse of boyhood’s fervid hour Grows tame as skies get chill and… Where once she sought a passion-fl…

ANDREW, HINGHAM, OCTOBER… BEHOLD the shape our eyes have… It lives once more in changeless s… So looked in mortal face and form Our guide through peril’s deadly s…

Read at a meeting of the Massachu… No! never such a draught was poure… Since Hebe served with nectar The bright Olympians and their Lo… Her over-kind protector,—

THE house was crammed from roof t… Heads piled on heads at every door… Half dead with August’s seething… I crowded on and found my seat, My patience slightly out of joint,

READ AT THE MEETING… ASSOCIATION, JUNE 25, 1873 THE fount the Spaniard sought in… Through all the land of flowers Leaps glittering from the sandy pl…

PHILADELPHIA, JULY 4, 1876 BRIGHT on the banners of lily a… Lo! the last sun of our century se… Wreathe the black cannon that scow… All but her friendships the nation…

INTRODUCTION TO A CO… AN usher standing at the door I show my white rosette; A smile of welcome, nothing more, Will pay my trifling debt;

WHERE, girt around by savage foe… Our nurturing Mother’s shelter ro… Behold, the lofty temple stands, Reared by her children’s grateful… Firm are the pillars that defy

HE sleeps not here; in hope and p… His wandering flock had gone befor… But he, the shepherd, might not sh… Their sorrows on the wintry shore. Before the Speedwell’s anchor swu…

THE YOUNG GIRL’S POEM WHATEVER I do, and whatever I… Aunt Tabitha tells me that is n’t… When she was a girl (forty summers… Aunt Tabitha tells me they never…

Well, Miss, I wonder where you li… I wonder what’s your name, I wonder how you came to be In such a stylish frame; Perhaps you were a favorite child,

IT was not many centuries since, When, gathered on the moonlit gree… Beneath the Tree of Liberty, A ring of weeping sprites was seen… The freshman’s lamp had long been…