She leaned out into the soft June… With her long loose tresses the ni… Her eyes were as blue as the bells… Oh, what is so fair as a fair youn… She folded her hands, like the lea…

Think of it, think of it over the… Thousands of men to-day march on t… Think how the sun shines on fields… How the air chokes, with the canno… How in the shadows, perchance, of…

I have not the gift of vision, I have not the psychic ear, And the realms that are called El… I neither see nor hear; Yet oft when the shadows darken

O mother who sips sweetened liquor… Look down at the child on your bre… Think, think of the rough path bef… And ask yourself then, ‘Is it bes… Shall I foster a love for this po…

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

I love your lips when they’re wet… And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the loveligh… Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm whi…

The devil in hell gave a festival, And he called his imps from their… Called them up from the ruddy cup, And marshalled them into line. And each to his place sprang the i…

I said this morning, as I leaned… My shutters open to the Spring’s… ‘Tell me, O Earth, how is it that… Year after year the same fresh fee… How do you keep your young exultan…

Among the twelve hundred poems which have emanated from my too prolific pen there are some forty or fifty which treat entirely of that emotion which has been denominated “the grand pass...

Maybe this is fun, sitting in the… With a book and parasol, as my An… While he dips his line in the ocea… Under the impression that his bait… ’Tis romantic, yes, but I must co…

Not they who know the awful gibbet… Not they who, while sad years go b… The sunless cells of lonely prison… Do suffer fullest penalty for sin. ’Tis they who walk the highways un…

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

GOOD-BYE to the cradle, the dea… The rude hand of Progress has thr… No more to its motion o’er sleep’s… Our play-weary wayfarers peacefull… No more by the rhythm of slow-movi…

The solemn Sea of Silence lies be… I know thou livest, and them loves… And yet I wish some white ship wo… Across the ocean, beating word fro… The dead calm awes me with its awf…

What does our country need? No a… With sabres gleaming ready for the… Not increased navies, skilful and… To bound the waters with an iron m… Not haughty men with glutted purse…