In a mansion grand, just over the way, Lives bonny, beautiful Dell; You may have heard of this lady gay, For she is a famous belle. I live in a low cot opposite,

O Science, reaching backward through th… Most earnest child of God, Exposing all the secrets of existence, With thy divining rod, I bid thee speed up to the heights super…

You remember the hall on the corner? To-night as I walked down street I heard the sound of music, And the rhythmic beat and beat, In time to the pulsing measure

There are curious isles in the River of… Curious isles without number. We’ll visit them all as we leisurely cre… Down the winding stream whose current is… In our beautiful barge of Slumber.

(After James Thomson) As I came through the Valley of Despai… As I came through the valley, onmy sigh… More awful that the darkness of the nigh… Shone glimpses of a Past that had been…

Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wr… mad with melody, rhythm—rife From the very first to the final note, Give me his “Artist’s Life!” It stirs my blood to my finger ends,

After the May time and after the June t… Rare with blossoms and perfume sweet, Cometh the round world’s royal noon time… The red midsummer of blazing heat, When the sun, like an eye that never clo…

O man, with your wonderful dower, O woman, with genius and grace, You can teach the whole world with your… If you are but worthy the place. The stage is a force and a factor

When the soft sweet wind o’ the south we… I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye… And out where the robin sang his song, We lived and loved, while the days were… In the sweet, sweet eves, when the moon…

Smile a little, smile a little, As you go along, Not alone when life is pleasant, But when things go wrong. Care delights to see you frowning,

A curious vision on mine eyes unfurled In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to… Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-à-… Across the great round table of the worl… One with suggested sorrows in his mien,

When night hung low and dew fell damp, There fell athwart the shadows The gleaming watchfires of the camp, Like glow-worms on the meadows. The sentinel his measured beat

If I could clasp my little babe Upon my breast to-night, I would not mind the blowing wind That shrieketh in affright. Oh, my lost babe! my little babe,

The God of the day has vanished, The light from the hills has fled, And the hand of an unseen artist Is painting the west all red. All threaded with gold and crimson,

When your love begins to wane, Spare me from the cruel pain Of all speech that tells me so - Spare me words, for I shall know, By the half-averted eyes,