Look up, desponding hearts! See,… From out her tents behind the scre… And speeds her glittering lances o… Where hostile mists, unconscious,… Roused from their vain security, t…

Bend down and read-the birth, the… Born in the year that Waterloo wa… And died in this, whose days are n… But which, because a year conceive… No noble need will christen or wil…

The last warm gleams of sunset fad… From cypress spire and stonepine d… And, in the twilight’s deepening s… Lingering, I scan the wrecks of R… Husht the Madonna’s Evening Bell…

‘Why am I deemed an enemy of men Who would beyond Life’s limit lif… If they believe that they will liv… How can it be that I have done th… Is it not I who rout the Winter s…

LEAVE me a little while alone, Here at his grave that still is st… With crumbling flower and wreath; The laughing rivulet leaps and fal… The thrush exults, the cuckoo call…

Will you walk with me to the brow… Whose daughter lies in the churchy… Half a mile by the winding lane, a… There you may lean o’er the gate a… Stop and talk of her girl that is…

Although no stupid scoffer, I Am wholly at a loss To apprehend the reason why You kiss Lorenzo’s Cross. For though indeed a hundred days’

I sallied afield when the bud firs… And the sun first slanteth hotly, And I came on a yokel in cap and… And a suit of saffron motley. He was squat on a bank where a sel…

Love, that all men think they know… Is a rare guest here below; But with mortals when it stays, These are its unerring ways. Love builds secret, half afraid,

‘The old Church doors stand open… Though neither bells nor anthems p… Gazing so fondly from outside, Why do you enter not and kneel? ’It is the sunset hour when all

The first wild rose in wayside hed… This year I wandering see, I pluck, and send it as a pledge, My own Wild Rose, to Thee. For when my gaze first met thy gaz…

Where lies Mozart? Tradition show… A likely spot: so much, no more: No words of his own time disclose When crossed He to the Further S… Though later ages, roused to shame…

My soul is sunk in all-suffusing s… Yet not for any individual sin, But that the world’s original fair… My own land’s most-is not what it… Shrieks of intolerable bondage smi…

The hills slope down to the valley… And my heart, my heart, O far one… But only the feet of the mountain… And the source and soul of the hur… The dawn is sick for the daylight,…

Welcome, right welcome home, to th… Where, unforgotten, loved Victori… But now with happy pride your Fat… Your Mother weeps. You went as came the swallow, home…