The cabin windows have grown blank As eyeballs of the dead; No more the glancing sunbeams burn On the gilt letters of the stern, But on the figure-head;

As one who long hath fled with pan… Before his foe, bleeding and near… I turn and set my back against the… And look thee in the face, triumph… I call for aid, and no one answere…

What phantom is this that appears Through the purple mist of the yea… Itself but a mist like these? A woman of cloud and of fire; It is she; it is Helen of Tyre,

MILES STANDISH In the Old Colony days, in Plymo… To and fro in a room of his simple… Clad in doublet and hose, and boot… Strode, with a martial air, Miles…

A gentle boy, with soft and silken… A dreamy boy, with brown and tende… A castle-builder, with his wooden… And towers that touch imaginary sk… A fearless rider on his father’s k…

Somewhat back from the village str… Stands the old—fashioned country—s… Across its antique portico Tall poplar—trees their shadows th… And from its station in the hall

Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern sky; And from the realms

This is the Arsenal. From floor t… Like a huge organ, rise the burnis… But from their silent pipes no ant… Startles the villages with strange… Ah! what a sound will rise, how wi…

O Traveller, stay thy weary feet; Drink of this fountain, pure and s… It flows for rich and poor the sam… Then go thy way, remembering still The wayside well beneath the hill,

On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell… And, where the maple’s leaf was br… With soft and silent lapse came do… The glory, that the wood receives,

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…

‘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,—

Flow on, sweet river! like his ver… Who lies beneath this sculptured h… Nor wait beside the churchyard wal… For him who cannot hear thy call. Thy playmate once; I see him now

Garlands upon his grave And flowers upon his hearse, And to the tender heart and brave The tribute of this verse. His was the troubled life,

Never stoops the soaring vulture On his quarry in the desert, On the sick or wounded bison, But another vulture, watching From his high aerial look-out,