I would more natures were like thi… That never casts a glance before, Thou Hebe, who thy heart’s bright… So lavishly to all dost pour, That we who drink forget to pine,

I saw the twinkle of white feet, I saw the flush of robes descendin… Before her ran an influence fleet, That bowed my heart like barley be… As, in bare fields, the searching…

YES, faith is a goodly anchor; When skies are sweet as a psalm, At the bows it lolls so stalwart, In bluff, broad-shouldered calm. And when over breakers to leeward

O poet! above all men blest, Take heed that thus thou store the… Love, Hope, and Faith shall ever… Sweet birds (upon how sweet a nest… Watchfully brooding o’er them.

Into the sunshine, Full of the light, Leaping and flashing From morn till night! Into the moonlight,

Where is the true man’s fatherland… Is it where he by chance is born? Doth not the yearning spirit scorn In such scant borders to be spanne… Oh yes! his fatherland must be

The Maple puts her corals on in M… While loitering frosts about the l… To be in tune with what the robins… Plastering new log-huts 'mid her b… But when the Autumn southward tur…

I went to seek for Christ, And Nature seemed so fair That first the woods and fields my… And I was sure to find him there: The temple I forsook,

Said Christ our Lord, ‘I will go… How the men, my brethren, believe… He passed not again through the ga… But made himself known to the chil… Then said the chief priests, and r…

It don’t seem hardly right, John, When both my hands was full, To stump me to a fight, John,— Your cousin, tu, John Bull! Ole Uncle S., sez he, “I guess

Along a riverside, I know not whe… I walked one night in mystery of d… A chill creeps curdling yet beneat… To think what chanced me by the pa… Of a moon-wraith that waned throug…

When wise Minerva still was young And just the least romantic, Soon after from Jove’s head she f… That preternatural antic, ’Tis said to keep from idleness

FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOO… ‘What means this glory round our f… The Magi mused, ‘more bright than… And voices chanted clear and sweet… ‘To-day the Prince of Peace is bo…

There never yet was flower fair in… Let classic poets rhyme it as they… The seasons toil that it may blow… And summer’s heart doth feel its e… Nor is a true soul ever born for n…

The same good blood that now refil… The dotard Orient’s shrunken vein… The same whose vigor westward thri… Bursting Nevada’s silver chains, Poured here upon the April grass,