Skimming lightly, wheeling still, The swallows fly low Over the field in clouded days, The forest-field of Shiloh— Over the field where April rain

_At The Surf Inn_ List the harp in window wailing Stirred by fitful gales from sea: Shrieking up in mad crescendo— Dying down in plaintive key!

After long wars when comes release Not olive wands proclaiming peace Can import dearer share Than stems of Herba Santa hazed In autumn’s Indian air.

What grand irregular thunder, thought I, standing on my hearthstone among the Acroceraunian hills, as the scattered bolts boomed overhead and crashed down among the valleys, every bolt ...

I AM a rather elderly man. The nature of my avocations for the last thirty years has brought me into more than ordinary contact with what would seem an interesting and somewhat singular...

One noonday, at my window in the t… I saw a sight– saddest that eyes c… Young soldiers marching lustily Unto the wars, With fifes, and flags in mottoed p…

IN relating to my friends various passages of my sea-goings I have at times had occasion to allude to that singular people the ‘Gees, sometimes as casual acquaintances, sometimes as shi...

June, 1865 Armies he’s seen—the herds of war, But never such swarms of men As now in the Nineveh of the Nort… How mad the Rebellion then!

_Of The Young Master of a Wrecke… Come out of the Golden Gate, Go round the Horn with streamers, Carry royals early and late; But, brother, be not over-elate—

O Pride of the days in prime of t… Now trebled in great renown, When before the ark of our holy ca… Fell Dagon down– Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and t…

Gold in the mountain, And gold in the glen, And greed in the heart, Heaven having no part, And unsatisfied men.

One that I cherished, Yea, loved as a son - Up early, up late with, My promising one: No use in good nurture,

Beauty and youth, with manners swe… friends— Gold, yet a mind not unenriched ha… Whom here low violets veil from ey… But all these gifts transcended be…

Silence and solitude may hint (Whose home is in yon piney wood) What I, though tableted, could ne… The din which here befell, And striving of the multitude.