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,

Why are thou sad, my Beppo? But… Here at my feet, thy dear head on… I heard thee say thy heart would n… Or feel the olden ennui and unrest… What troubles thee? Am I not all…

Dying? I am not dying. Are you ma… You think I need to ask for heave… I think you are a fiend, who would… To see me struggle in death’s cold… ‘But, man you lie! for I am stron…

“He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, And should be in chains,” you say. I haven’t a doubt of your statemen… But who isn’t mad, I pray? Why, the world is a great asylum,

Arise, O master artist of the age… And paint the picture which at onc… Immortal art and bless’d prophecy. The bruiséd vision of the world as… To earth’s dark book add one illum…

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…

Bohemia, o’er thy unatlassed borde… How many cross, with half-reluctan… And unformed fears of dangers and… To find delights, more wholesome a… Than ever yet were known to the “e…

Obscured the sun, the world is dar… Maid of Orleans, Joan of Arc, Send down thy spark. Let every heart in France be stir… By such an all-compelling word

Nay, nay, Antonio! nay, thou shal… My Gracia, who hath so deserted m… Thou art my friend, but if thou do… I shall not hesitate to challenge… ‘Curse and forget her?’ So I migh…

Well, Mabel, ’tis over and ended—… The ball I wrote was to be; And oh! it was perfectly splendid—… If you could have been here to see… I’ve a thousand things to write yo…

I shall not forget you. The years… But vain are their efforts to soft… And the strong hands of Time are… To garland the grave that is made… Your image is ever about me, befor…

The mighty forces of mysterious sp… Are one by one subdued by lordly m… The awful lightning that for eons… Their devastating and untrammelled… Now bear his messages from place t…

When Tom and I were married, we t… I had a taste for singing and play… And Tom, who loved to hear me, sa… I would not stop All practice, like so many wives w…

I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the tenor McKe… Were singing together a blithe due… And days it were better I should… Came suddenly back to me,

Always at sea I think about the d… On barques invisible they seem to… The self-same course; and from the… Then I recall old words that they… And see their faces etched upon th…