The cunningest thing that a baby c… Is the very first time it plays pe… When it hides its pink little face… And crows, and shows that it under… What nurse, and mamma and papa, to…

You do but jest, sir, and you jest… How could the hand be enemy of the… Or seed and sod be rivals! How c… Feel jealousy of heat, plant of th… Or competition dwell ’twixt lip an…

I knew that a baby was hid in that… Though I saw no cradle and heard… But the husband was tip-toeing ‘ro… And the good wife was humming a so… And there was a look on the face o…

The saddest hour of anguish and of… Is not that season of supreme desp… When we can find no least light an… To gild the dread, black shadow of… Not in that luxury of sorrow when

Along a narrow Moorish street A blue-eyed soldier strode. (Ah, well-a-day.) Veiled from her lashes to her feet She stepped from her abode,

Here in my office I sit and write Hour on hour, and day on day, With no one to speak to from morn… Though I have a neighbour just ov… Across the alley that yawns betwee…

Love thyself last. Look near, be… To those who walk beside thee down… Make glad their days by little act… And help them bear the burden of e… Love thyself last. Look far and…

In France I saw a hill-a gentle s… Rising above old tombs to greet th… From soft spring skies. Beyond th… But those green graves bespeak a b… There was a row of narrow beds, ne…

Who thinks how desolate and strang… To me must seem the autumn’s chang… When housed in attic or in chest, A lonely and unwilling guest, I lie through nights of bleak Dec…

Lightly they hold him and lightly… Soft as a pillow are somebody’s ar… Down he goes slowly, ever so lowly Over the rim of the cradle they la… Baby’s first journey is free from…

If any line that I ever penned, Or any word I have spoken, Has comforted heart of foe or frie… In any way, why my life, I’ll say… Has reaped the reward of labour,

A beautiful great lady, past her p… Behold her dreaming in her easy ch… Gray robed, and veiled; in laces o… Her smiling eyes see but the vanis… Of splendid prowess, and of deeds…

Is it the world, or my eyes, that… I see not the grace that I used t… In the meadow-brook whose song was… In the boughs of the willow tree. The brook runs slower—its song see…

One night Nurse Sleep held out he… To tired little May. ‘Come, go with me to Wonderland,’ She said, ‘I know the way. Just rock-a-by-hum-m-m,

Oh! by and by we shall hear the cr… ‘This is the way to Mars.’ Come take a trip, on the morning… It sails by the Isle of Stars. ‘A glorious view of planets new