I WROTE down my troubles every… And after a few short years, When I turned to the heart-aches… I read them with smiles, not tears…

WHERE shall we seek for a hero,… Our laurels are wreathed for conqu… But we honor a shrine unfinished,… If we sing the deed that was sown… Shall we take for a sign this Neg…

“I am poor,” said Chunder Ali, wh… Frowned in supercilious anger at t… “I am friendless and a Hindoo: su… Here in China, where the Hindoo f… I have naught to buy your justice;…

O THE rare spring flowers! take… Do not wait forsummer buds—they ma… Every sweet to-day sends, we are w… Roses bloom for pulling: the path…

WISE men use days as husbandmen… And steal rich drops from every pr… Others, like wasps on blossomed ap… Find gall, not honey, in the sweet… Congratulations for a scene like t…

The bees are in the meadow And the swallows in the sky; The cattle in the shadow Watch the river running by. The wheat is hardly stirring;

Do you love me?' she said, when th… And we walked where the stream thr… And I told and retold her my love… While she listened and smiled, and… Do you love me?' she whispered, wh…

I MAY not speak in words, dear,… To tell their crimson secret in le… They plead for smiles and kisses a… And every purple veinlet thrills w… O, let me see the glance, dear, th…

THERE is an old tradition sacred… That says: 'Upon St. Martin’s Ev… No fishermen of Wexford shall, up… Set sail or cast a line within the… The tongue that framed the order,…

DIXON, a Choctaw, twenty years… Had killed a miner in a Leadville… Tried and condemned, the rough-bea… And watch him stride in freedom fr… ‘Return on Friday, to be shot to…

ENSIGN EPPS, at the battle of… Sowed a seed of glory and duty That flowers and flames in height… Like a crimson lily with heart of… To-day, when the wars of Ghent ar…

MAJESTIC warder by the Nation’… Spike-crowned, flame-armed like A… Holding the tablets of some unknow… With gesture eloquent and mute as… We stand about thy feet in solemn…

‘You gave me the key of your heart… Then why do you make me knock?’ ‘O, that was yesterday, Saints ab… And last night—I changed the lock…

A GOD-LIKE face, with human lo… And tender fancy traced in every l… A god-like face, but oh, how human… Dear Keats, who love the gods the…

The dead who died for Ireland! Oh, these are living words To nerve the hearts of patriots— To steel avenging swords— They thrill the soul when spoken,