We women teach our little sons how… And how ignoble blows are; school… Support our precepts and inoculate The growing minds with thoughts of… ‘Let dogs delight to bark and bite…

Let me to-day do something that sh… A little sadness from the world’s… And may I be so favoured as to ma… Of joy’s too scanty sum a little m… Let me not hurt, by any selfish de…

I set out for the Land of Content… By the gay crowded pleasure-highwa… With laughter, and jesting, I wen… With the mirth-loving throng for a… Then I knew I had wandered astray…

The pessimist locust, last to leaf… Though all the world is glad, stil…

We met at night in the season’s hight… Mid revel and mirth and song. I looked in your eye with a mute,… As you elbowed your way through th…

Oh many a duel the world has seen That was bitter with hate, that wa… But I sing of a duel by far more… Than ever a poet was sung before. It was waged by night, yea by day…

When you launch your bark for sail… On the sea of life, O youth! Clothe your heart and soul and spi… In the blessèd garb of Truth. Guard your every word and action:

Only a blunder-a sad mistake; All my own fault and mine alone. The saddest error a heart can make… I was so young, or I would have k… Only his rare, sweet, tender smile…

A humble wild-rose, pink and slend… Was plucked and placed in a bright… Beside a Jacqueminot’s royal sple… And both in my lady’s boudoir lay. Said the haughty bud, in a tone of…

As when the old moon lighted by th… And radiant crescent of the new is… And for a moment’s space suggests… Of what in its full prime it once… So on my waning years you cast the…

Just when all hope had perished in… And balked desire made havoc with… My cruel Ladye suddenly grew kind… And sent those gracious words upon… “When knowing Night her dusky sca…

When God created this good world A few stupendous peaks were hurled From His strong hand, and they re… The wonder of the level plain. But these colossal heights are rar…

There’s many a house of grandeur, With turret, tower and dome, That knows not peace or comfort, And does not prove a home. I do not ask for splendor

In the rapture of life and of livi… I lift up my head and rejoice, And I thank the great Giver for g… The soul of my gladness a voice. In the glow of the glorious weathe…

There is much that makes me sorry… And I seem to see more pathos in… I’m sorry for the strong, brave me… But who, in their own troubled hou… I’m sorry for the victors who have…