The mighty conflict, which we call… Doth wear upon the body and the so… Our vital forces wasted in resista… So much there is to conquer and co… The rock which meets the billows w…

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…

In a land beyond sight or conceivi… In a land where no blight is, no w… No darkness, no graves, and no gri… There lies the great ocean of song… And its waves, oh, its waves unbeh…

I have lived this life as the skep… I have said the sweetness was less… Praising, nor cursing, the Hand t… I have drifted aimlessly through i… I have scoffed at the tale of a so…

Our lives are songs. God writes t… And we set them to music at pleasu… And the song grows glad, or sweet,… As we choose to fashion the measur… We must write the music, whatever…

All perfect things are saddening i… The autumn wood robed in its scarl… The matchless tinting on the royal… Whose velvet leaf by no least flaw… Love’s supreme moment, when the so…

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…

To sin by silence, when we should… Makes cowards out of men. The hum… Has climbed on protest. Had no vo… Against injustice, ignorance and l… The Inquisition yet would serve t…

The Poker proposed to the shovel That they should be man and wife, ‘I think,’ said he, ‘that we could… As we journey along through life.’ The Shovel blushed as she answere…

I: BLIND When first the shadows fell, like… And darkness spread before me, lik… I cried out for the sun, the earth… And beat the air, as madmen beat a…

And now, when poets are singing Their songs of olden days, And now, when the land is ringing With sweet Centennial lays, My muse goes wandering backward,

The strings of my heart were strun… And I laughed when the music fell… For he and Mirth played a joyful… And they played so loud that I co… The wailing and mourning of souls…

When mighty issues loom before us,… The petty great men of the day see… Like pigmies standing in a blaze o… Before some grim majestic mountain… War, with its bloody and impartial…

The roses all were pink and red, Before the Bumble Bee, A lover bold, with cloak of gold, Came singing merrily Along the sunlit ways that led