Men! whose boast it is that ye Come of fathers brave and free; If there breathe on earth a slave, Are ye truly free and brave? Are ye not base slaves indeed,

A FRAGMENT Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast Of bisons the far prairie shaking, The notes crowd heavily and fast As surfs, one plunging while the l…

THEY are slaves who fear to spea… For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who will not choos… Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink

I go to the ridge in the forest I haunted in days gone by, But thou, O Memory, pourest No magical dropp in mine eye, Nor the gleam of the secret restor…

As a twig trembles, which a bird Lights on to sing, then leaves unb… So is my memory thrilled and stirr… I only know she came and went. As clasps some lake, by gusts unri…

May is a pious fraud of the almana… A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed wi… Or if, o’er-confident, she trust t… And, with her handful of anemones,

The rich man’s son inherits lands, And piles of brick and stone, and… And he inherits soft white hands, And tender flesh that fears the co… Nor dares to wear a garment old;

From the close-shut windows gleams… The night is chilly, the night is… The poplars shiver, the pine-trees… My hair by the autumn breeze is bl… Under thy window I sing alone,

A beggar through the world am I, From place to place I wander by. Fill up my pilgrim’s scrip for me, For Christ’s sweet sake and chari… A little of thy steadfastness,

When a deed is done for Freedom,… Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, tr… And the slave, where’er he cowers,… To the awful verge of manhood, as… Of the century bursts full-blossom…

In the old days of awe and keen-ey… The Poet’s song with blood-warm t… He saw the mysteries which circle… The outward shell and skin of dail… Nothing to him were fleeting time…

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…

IMPRESSIONS OF HOMER Sometimes come pauses of calm, whe… Over his deep mind muses, as when… Poises a heapt cloud luridly, ripe… Slow rolls onward the verse with a…

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