With a resplendent Eastern bride, Like a houri at my side, And music round us swelling, ’Mid odours of so rare a steam That like a breath of love they se…

STANDING alone, a study in its… How Shakespeare’s volume glorifie… For thence his spirit forth on min… Like a great morning on the hills… Sphered in the light of his creati…

His Mind alone is Kingly, who (th… But venerates of present Things o… What he believeth Good; kneeling… Save God and Truth! Who, awed no… And shadowy Scheme of Life, but a…

I hear thee, echo! And I start to… With a strange shock, as from amon… Thy voice, reverbering in swift mu… Dies down the stream, or with its… Blends whisperingly, until my boso…

“’TIS nine o’clock:—to bed!” crie… Who with his youthful household (f… Long since) inhabited a lonely hom… In the Australian wilderness, tha… As with an unshorn fleece of gloom…

The loud, apt epithet, applying su… The dim-drawn image, artfully obsc… The perfect stanza, framed of word… And round as pearls, yet liquid to… A pith of phrase, and musical arra…

FIT winding-sheet for thee Was the upheaving eternal sea, Fit dirge the tempest’s slave-alar… For yokeless as the waves alway Thy thoughts went sounding forth,…

WE’LL PLANT a Tree of Liberty In the centre of the land, And round it ranged as guardians b… A vowed and trusty band; And sages bold and mighty soul’d

Could we as mortals but our end fo… How little in our minds the world… Could we as spirits but this life… And be again incarnate as we were, How little might be done like what…

MY beautiful! For beautiful thou… To me thy father, as the morning l… Which makes all common objects fre… Yea gives them out of the dun void… As they were newly fashion’d from…

I SATE upon a lonely peak, A backwood river’s course to view, And watched the changing shadows f… Its liquid length of gleaming blue… Streaked by the crane slow gliding…

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…

It was, I well remember, the merr… Young Dora in the eventide came s… And the song came up the glen, til… In a subtle stream of melody ran g… A fond desire, long cherished, til…

HIS lot how glorious whom the mus… Her first high-priest in this brig… Aglow with light from her aspiring… Catching the raptures of her Grec… Lifting these later days to height…

Flowers in their freshness are flu… And the voice-peopled forest is lo… And streams in their fulness are l… Yet my bosom is aching. There’s shadow on all things—the s…