THE wind blew shrill and smart, And the wind awoke my heart Again to go a—sailing o’er the sea… To hear the cordage moan And the straining timbers groan,

At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing… And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl

Late lies the wintry sun a—bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy—head; Blinks but an hour or two; and the… A blood—red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the ski…

Sing me a song of a lad that is go… Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Mull was astern, Rum on the port,

Summer fading, winter comes— Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story—books. Water now is turned to stone

NOW Antoninus, in a smiling age, Counts of his life the fifteenth f… The rounded days and the safe year… Nor fears death’s water mounting r… To him remembering not one day is…

Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore… Sing truer or no longer sing! No more the voice of melancholy J… To wake a weeping echo in the hill… But as the boy, the pirate of the…

God, if this were enough, That I see things bare to the buf… And up to the buttocks in mire; That I ask nor hope nor hire, Nut in the husk,

Some day soon this rhyming volume,… Little Louis Sanchez, will be giv… Then you shall discover, that your… By the English printers, long bef… In the great and busy city where t…

The strong man’s hand, the snow—co… The certain—footed sympathies of y… These, and that lofty passion afte… Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sa… Or the great men of former years,…

Home no more home to me, whither m… Hunger my driver, I go where I mu… Cold blows the winter wind over hi… Thick drives the rain, and my roof… Loved of wise men was the shade of…

The sun is not a—bed, when I At night upon my pillow lie; Still round the earth his way he t… And morning after morning makes. While here at home, in shining day…

As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees… So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away,

TO all that love the far and blue… Whether, from dawn to eve, on foot The fleeing corners ye pursue, Nor weary of the vain pursuit; Or whether down the singing stream…

To see the infinite pity of this p… The mangled limb, the devastated f… The innocent sufferer smiling at t… A fool were tempted to deny his G… He sees, he shrinks. But if he g…