Time’s finger on the dial of my li… Points to high noon! and yet the h… Leaves less than half remaining, f… Bleak shadows of the grave engulf… To those who burn the candle to th…

‘Tis time to dress. Dost hear the… Like sobbing waves that roll up fr… Yes, yes, I hear – I yield – no n… I know your wishes,– send Lisette… I hate the ballroom; hate its gild…

A rose in my garden, the sweetest… Was hanging her head through the l… And early one morning I saw her t… And heard a low gossiping talk in… The yellow Nasturtium, a spinster…

As in the long dead days marauding… Of Indians came from far Siberian… And drove the peaceful Aztecs fro… Despoiled their homes (but left th… So has the white man with the Ind…

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…

At Box Hill, Surrey A modern hour from London (as we… Into a silver thread the miles of… Between us and our goal), there is… Apart from city traffic, dust, and…

Ho! for the day in the whole year… Long may it live in the heart of t… Long may it be ere the names are f… That boldly were signed to the gra… Shout, sons of liberty! shout for…

Wherever the white man’s feet have… (Oh far does the white man stray) A bold road rifles the virginal so… And the forest wakes out of its dr… To yield him the right of way.

Begin each morning with a talk to… And ask for your divine inheritanc… Of usefulness, contentment, and su… Resign all fear, all doubt, and al… The stars doubt not, and they are…

To Miss Eva Russell. The spring time is deaf to our ple… The meadows are brown as can be. The hilltops are bleak and unlovel… No thrush sits and sings on the tr…

Under the light of the silver moon We two sat, when our hearts were y… The night was warm with the breath… And loud from the meadow the crick… And darker and deeper, oh, love, t…

“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,

Here, in the heart of the world, Here, in the noise and the din, Here, where our spirits were hurle… To battle with sorrow and sin, This is the place and the spot

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…

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…