Knowest thou not that of all human… God chooses love?—alone, that may… Upon His altar, who hath all thin… And find acceptance:—to the hand t… That precious price, the gates of…

Sleep, Venice, sleep! the evening… Over the waves that rock thee on t… The bugle blare to kennel calls th… Who sleepless watch thy waking and… Sleep till the night stars do the…

Early in life, when hope seems pro… And strong desire can sometimes mo… My dream was of thy shores, O Ita… Of thy blue deep, that even for a… Will not forsake its spicy pine-gi…

I would I might be with thee, whe… Begins to wane, and that thou walk… Upon the rocky strand, whilst loud… The autumn wind sings, from his cl… Wild requiems for the summer that…

Time beckons on the hours: the exp… Already feels old Winter’s icy br… As with cold hands he scatters on… The faded glories of her autumn wr… As fleetly as the summer’s sunshin…

The love that was too poor to purc… Is rich enough to buy each noble t… That may be reached on the untirin… Of patient, strong pursuit; all th… Honest, and brave, and most adorns…

Lady, sweet lady, I behold thee y… With thy pale brow, brown eyes, an… And billowy tresses of thy golden… Which once to see, is never to for… But for short space I gazed, with…

Mother, mother! my heart is wild, Hold me upon your bosom dear, Do not frown on your own poor chil… Death is darkly drawing near. Mother, mother! the bitter shame

There’s not a fibre in my tremblin… That does not vibrate when thy ste… There’s not a pulse that throbs no… Thy voice, thy breathing, nay thy… When thou art with me every sense…

We are the ghosts of those small f… That in the opening of the year, ‘Neath rosemary and myrtle bowers, In crimson vests appear. Far, underneath the blue pine wood…

A BRITISH TRANSPORT… A BALLAD. As well as I am able, I’ll relate… And I trust, sirs, you’ll excuse… I’ve lived a hard and wandering li…

When the bright sun back on his ye… Comes towards us, his great glory… As from the sky he pours it all ab… A golden herald, my beloved, of th… When from the south the gentle win…

I never shall forget thee’€”'tis a… Thou oft nust hear, for surely the… On whom thy wondrous eyes have eve… But for a moment, or who e’er have… Thy voice’s deep impassioned melod…

Shelter and succour such as common… Afford the weaker partners of thei… Have I derived from thee’from the… And powerful genius! whose sublime… Still from thy grave governs each…

Fallen from thy parent bough, Poor wither’d leaf, where goest th… From the mountain to the vale, From the forest to the hill I flutter, carried by the gale,