Strolling at sunset in my native l… With fruits and flowers thick on e… I crossed a Shadow flung athwart… Emerging on a waste of rock and sa… ‘The apples all are gone from here…

'Let Glory’s sons manipulate The tiller of the Ship of State. Be mine the humble, useful toil To work the tiller of the soil.'

Says Gerald Massey: ‘When I writ… Of souls of the departed guides my… How strange that poems cumbering o… Penned by immortal parts, have non…

An 'actors’ cemetery’! Sure The devil never tires Of planning places to procure The sticks to feed his fires.

You say, John Irish, Mr. Taylor… A painted beard. Quite likely tha… And sure 'tis natural you spend yo… On what has been least merciful to… By Taylor’s chin, if I am not mis…

O hoary sculptor, stay thy hand: I fain would view the lettered sto… What carvest thou?-perchance some… And solemn fancy all thine own. For oft to know the fitting word

As time rolled on the whole world… A desolation and a darksome curse; And some one said: ‘The changes t… In the fair frame of things, from… Are wrought by strikes. The sun w…

I’m a gorgeous golden hero And my trade is taking life. Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero Of my sibillating fife And the rub-a-dub-a-dum

Welcker, I’m told, can boast a fa… And honored in the service of the… Public Instruction all his mind e… He guides its methods and its wage… Prime Pedagogue, imperious and gr…

Within my dark and narrow bed I rested well, new-laid: I heard above my fleshless head The grinding of a spade. A gruffer note ensued and grew

O very remarkable mortal, What food is engaging your jaws And staining with amber their port… 'It’s ‘baccy I chaws.’ And why do you sway in your walkin…

He looked upon the ships as they All idly lay at anchor, Their sides with gorgeous workmen… The riveter and planker Republicans and Democrats,

What! photograph in colors? 'Tis… And he who dreams it is not overwi… If colors are vibration they but s… And have no being. But if Tyndall… Why, come, then-photograph my lady…

Over the man the street car ran, And the driver did never grin. ‘O killer of men, pray tell me whe… Your laughter means to begin. ’Ten years to a day I’ve observed…

From end to end, thine avenue, Va… Rang with the cries of battle and… Brave lungs were thundering with d… And perspiration smoked along the… Sing, heavenly muse, to ears of mo…