A thousand million souls arise Out of the cradle of to-day, And, like a living storm, beneath… Go thundering on their fatal way! But ere to-morrow’s sun

Alas! I know not why it should be… But the most rarely mental of Man… Are seldom prosperous in Life; as… High Heaven, severe in simple goo… In thus denying to Majesty of min…

HIGH ’mid the shelves of a grey… Riseth in Babylonian mass above, In a benched cleft, as in the moul… Of grey-beard Time himself, I sit… And gaze with a keen wondering hap…

A LONELY boy, far venturing fro… Out on the half-wild herd’s faint… ’Mid rock-browned mountains, which… Glare into haggard chasms deep ado… A rude and craggy world, the prosp…

MARK yon runnel, how ’tis flowin… Like a sylvan spirit dreaming Of the spring-blooms near it blowi… And the sunlight o’er it beaming— Bright from bank to bank, or growi…

IT IS the morning star, arising… Out of yon hill’s dark bulk, as sh… Of its desire for day; then glides… And into the dim sky, there leavin… A whiteness in her wake that white…

Never give up, though life be a ba… Wherein true men may fail, and tru… Yet, on the whole, however may rat… The thunders of chance, scaring co… Clear victory’s always the bride o…

A HEAVY and desolate sense of l… Is all the Past makes mine—and st… A cold contempt of Fortune’s stri… Despite the dread Of want of bread,

IT WAS a tale of passion that we… Of two who loved, not happily, but… And evermore her gentle breast did… Like a twin-billow,—for her feelin… Upon its rhythmic grief—and brimmi…

In sleep with a sweet pang my brai… And straight, methought, I passed… Into some World whereon a brighte… Than ours came down, ’mid fairer s… With starry fruit; whilst deathles…

Thought-weary and sad, I reclined… At the head of a white-cedar-shade… And the breeze that fell over the… Sang a lullaby low as I gazed o’e… Long I’d reclined not till slumbe…

MY OWN WILD BURNS! these ru… In golden worth are like the unsha… Of some new realm, yet pure as fro… And Art may well be spared with s… As dims the bullion to improve the…

Yet do not thou forsake me now, Poesy, with Peace-together! Ere this last disastrous blow Did lay my struggling fortunes low… In love unworn have we not borne

Glorious his lot whom Poesie shal… Her first High Priest in this so… Though thereby clothed as with a r… With her Creations of the Olden… Much conversant, and by their bulk…

“WHO would not be a poet?” thus… In thy proud sonnet, my poetic fri… And unto this my full assent was g… “There is not, cannot be, under al… Aught happier in itself than the w…