In the long, sleepless watches of… A gentle face —the face of one lon… Looks at me from the wall, where r… The night—lamp casts a halo of pal… Here in this room she died; and so…

Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope… And Valmond, Emperor of Allemain… Apparelled in magnificent attire, With retinue of many a knight and… On St. John’s eve, at vespers, pr…

‘I thought before your tale began,… The Student murmured, ‘we should… Some legend written by Judah Rav In his Gemara of Babylon; Or something from the Gulistan,—

How I started up in the night, in… Drawn on without rest or reprieval… The streets, with their watchmen,… As I wandered so light In the night, in the night,

As a pale phantom with a lamp Ascends some ruin’s haunted stair, So glides the moon along the damp Mysterious chambers of the air. Now hidden in cloud, and now revea…

Blind Bartimeus at the gates Of Jericho in darkness waits; He hears the crowd;—he hears a bre… Say, “It is Christ of Nazareth!” And calls, in tones of agony,

I heard a voice, that cried, ‘Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!’ And through the misty air Passed like the mournful cry

This song of mine Is a Song of the Vine, To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns, When the rain begins

All houses wherein men have lived… Are haunted houses. Through the o… The harmless phantoms on their err… With feet that make no sound upon… We meet them at the doorway, on th…

I am poor and old and blind; The sun burns me, and the wind Blows through the city gate And covers me with dust From the wheels of the august

Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, Of the happy days that followed, In the land of the Ojibways, In the pleasant land and peaceful! Sing the mysteries of Mondamin,

You shall hear how Hiawatha Prayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumphs in the battle,

‘Ah, how short are the days! How… In the old country the twilight is… Suddenly comes the dark, with hard… Hardly a moment between the two li… Yet how grand is the winter! How…

On the cross the dying Saviour Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm, Feels, but scarcely feels, a tremb… In his pierced and bleeding palm. And by all the world forsaken,

Far and wide among the nations Spread the name and fame of Kwasi… No man dared to strive with Kwasi… No man could compete with Kwasind… But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies,