Under the snow, in the dark and th… A pale little sprout was humming; Sweetly it sang, ’neath the frozen… Of the beautiful days that were co… “How foolish your songs!” said a l…

Pausing a moment ere the day was d… While yet the earth was scintillan… I backward glanced. From valley,… At intervals, where my life-path h… Rose cross on cross; and nailed up…

Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss the purpose of this li… and do not wait for circumstance to mold or change your fate. In your own self lies destiny.

One time in Arcadie’s fair bowers There met a bright immortal band, To choose their emblems from the f… That made an Eden of that land. Sweet Constancy, with eyes of hop…

The days grow shorter, the nights… The headstones thicken along the w… And life grows sadder, but love gr… For those who walk with us day by… The tear comes quicker, the laugh…

Hers was a lonely, shadowed lot; Or so the unperceiving thought, Who looked no deeper than her face… Devoid of chiselled lines of grace… No farther than her humble grate,

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...

There are not many sins when once… In actions of evolving human souls Striving to reach high goals And falling backward into dust and… Some element we find that seems to…

I called to the wind of the Winte… As he sped like a steed on his way… ‘Oh! rest for awhile on thy journe… And answer these questions, I pra… ’Who is the foe to all virtue,

Oh! I hear the people calling thr… They are calling, they are crying… It behooves you, men and women, it… For there lurks a note of menace u… Let the land usurpers listen, let…

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

He said he loved me! Then he call… Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid… My cheek a rose leaf fallen on new… And swore my round, full throat wo… To Venus or to Psyche.

The stork flew over a town one day… And back of each wing an infant la… One to a rich man’s home he brough… And one he left at a labourer’s co… The rich man said, ‘My son shall…

If all the year was summer time, And all the aim of life Was just to lilt on like a rhyme, Then I would be your wife. If all the days were August days,

Who travels alone with his eyes on… Though he laughs in the day time o… For courage goes down at the set o… When the toil of the journey is al… He speeds but to grief though full…