Grief dies like joy; the tears upo… Will disappear like dew. Dear Go… Thy kindly Providence hath made i… And thank thee for the law. I am… To make a friend of Sorrow, or to…

Whose was the hand that painted th… In the false aspect of a ruthless… Despair and sorrow waiting on thy… O gentle Power! who could have wr… Thou rather shouldst be crowned wi…

A fairy ring Drawn in the crimson of a battle-p… From whose weird circle every loat… And sight and sound of pain Are banished, while about it in th…

Why am I silent from year to year… Needs must I sing on these blue M… What will you say, when I tell yo… That already, I think, for a litt… I have paid too dear?

The despot treads thy sacred sands… Thy pines give shelter to his band… Thy sons stand by with idle hands, Carolina! He breathes at ease thy airs of ba…

Some truths there be are better le… Much is there that we may not spea… On words, as wings, how many joys… The jealous fairies love not to be… There is an old-world tale of one…

The stream is flowing from the wes… As if it poured from yonder skies, It wears upon its rippling breast The sunset’s golden dyes; And bearing onward to the sea,

Faint falls the gentle voice of pr… In the wild sounds that fill the a… Yet, Lord, we know that voice is… Not less than if Thy throne it st… II

I know not why, but ev’n to me My songs seem sweet when read to t… Perhaps in this the pleasure lies… I read my thoughts within thine ey… And so dare fancy that my art

Oh! dost thou flatter falsely, Ho… The day hath scarcely passed that… Yet thy white wings are plumed to… And hour by hour thine eyes have g… And grown so large and bright,

What gossamer lures thee now? Wh… Is on thy lips? What dreams to f… Thou who hast turned ONE Poet-he… Is thine yet burning with its sera… Let me give back a warning of thin…

Shall I desist, twice baffled? O… And once by sea, I fought and str… All shades of danger, tides, and w… Head-currents, cold and famine, sa… And men more savage; all the while…

A Prize Poem A fairy ring Drawn in the crimson of a battle-p… From whose weird circle every loat… And sight and sound of pain

Are these wild thoughts, thus fett… Indeed the product of my heart and… How strange that on my ear the rhy… Falls like faint memories of far-o… When did I feel the sorrow, act t…