Not without fire can any workman m… The iron to his preconceived desig… Nor can the artist without fire re… And purify from all its dross the… Nor can revive the phoenix, we are…

I said unto myself, if I were dea… What would befall these children?… Their fate, who now are looking up… For help and furtherance? Their l… Would be a volume wherein I have…

At Stralsund, by the Baltic Sea, Within the sandy bar, At sunset of a summer’s day, Ready for sea, at anchor lay The good ship Valdemar.

"O Cæsar, we who are about to die Salute you!" was the gladiators’ c… In the arena, standing face to fac… With death and with the Roman pop… O ye familiar scenes,—ye groves of…

We sat within the farm—house old, Whose windows, looking o’er the ba… Gave to the sea—breeze damp and co… An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port,

Eyes so tristful, eyes so tristful… Heart so full of care and cumber, I was lapped in rest and slumber, Ye have made me wakeful, wistful! In this life of labor endless

Sweet faces, that from pictured ca… As from a castle window, looking d… On some gay pageant passing throug… Yourselves the fairest figures in… With what a gentle grace, with wha…

Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and gast blew the blast, And the east—wind was his breath. His lordly ships of ice

I stood upon the hills, when heave… Was glorious with the sun’s return… And woods were brightened, and sof… Went forth to kiss the sun—clad va… The clouds were far beneath me; ba…

Sweet as the tender fragrance that… When martyred flowers breathe out… Sweet as a song that once consoled… But never will be sung to us again… Is thy remembrance. Now the hour…

Lo! in the paintedoriel of the We… Whose panes the sunken sun incarna… Like a fair lady at her casement,… The evening star, the star of love… And then anon she doth herself div…

How cold are thy baths, Apollo! Cried the African monarch, the sp… As down to his death in the hollow Dark dungeons of Rome he descende… Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended;

The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea—birds Flash the white caps of the sea. But in the fisherman’s cottage

Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland he appeared. ‘Look!’ they said,

Olger the Dane and Desiderio, King of the Lombards, on a lofty… Stood gazing northward o’er the ro… League after league of harvests, t… Of the snow-crested Alps, and saw…