Adapted From The Vita Nuova Of
What Mary is when she a little sm
I cannot even tell or call to mind
It is a miracle so new, so rare.

Emily,
A ship is floating in the harbour
A wind is hovering o’er the mounta
There is a path on the sea’s azure
No keel has ever plough’d that pat

Ye hasten to the grave! What seek
Ye restless thoughts and busy purp
Of the idle brain, which the world
O thou quick heart, which pantest
All that pale Expectation feignet

A golden-winged Angel stood
Before the Eternal Judgement-seat
His looks were wild, and Devils’
Stained his dainty hands and feet.
The Father and the Son

DEATH:
For my dagger is bathed in the blo
I come, care-worn tenant of life,
Where Innocence sleeps 'neath the
And the good cease to tremble at

‘Here lieth One whose name was wr
But, ere the breath that could era
Death, in remorse for that fell sl
Death, the immortalizing winter, f
Athwart the stream,—and time’s pri

THE wind has swept from the wide
Each vapour that obscured the suns
And pallid Evening twines its bea
In duskier braids around the langu
Silence and Twilight, unbeloved o

The stars may dissolve, and the fo
May sink into ne’er ending chaos a
Our mansions must fall, and earth
But thy courage O Erin! may never
See! the wide wasting ruin extends

SWIFTLY walk o’er the western w
   Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,—
Where, all the long and lone dayli
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear

Come Harriet! sweet is the hour,
Soft Zephyrs breathe gently aroun
The anemone’s night-boding flower,
Has sunk its pale head on the grou
'Tis thus the world’s keenness hat