Who stands on that cliff, like a f… Unmoving and tall in the light of… Where the spray of the cataract sp… Lonely and sternly, save Mogg Meg… Close to the verge of the rock is…

Beside that milestone where the le… Nigh unto setting, sheds his last,… On word and work irrevocably done, Life’s blending threads of good an… I hear, O friends! your words of…

The land, that, from the rule of k… In freeing us, itself made free, Our Old World Sister, to us brin… Her sculptured Dream of Liberty, Unlike the shapes on Egypt’s sand…

Take our hands, James Russell Lo… Our hearts are all thy own; To-day we bid thee welcome Not for ourselves alone. In the long years of thy absence

HURRAH! the seaward breezes Sweep down the bay amain; Heave up, my lads, the anchor! Run up the sail again! Leave to the lubber landsmen

What flecks the outer gray beyond The sundown’s golden trail? The white flash of a sea-bird’s wi… Or gleam of slanting sail? Let young eyes watch from Neck an…

THE tossing spray of Cocheco’s f… Hardened to ice on its rocky wall, As through Dover town in the chil… Three women passed, at the cart-ta… Bared to the waist, for the north…

A picture memory brings to me I look across the years and see Myself beside my mother’s knee. I feel her gentle hand restrain My selfish moods, and know again

Up from the meadows rich with corn… Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick… Green-walled by the hills of Mary… Round about them orchards sweep,

The shadows round the inland sea Are deepening into night; Slow up the slopes of Ossipee They chase the lessening light. Tired of the long day’s blinding h…

FROM the heart of Waumbek Methn… lake that never fails, Falls the Saco in the green lap o… intervales; There, in wild and virgin freshnes…

The Khan came from Bokhara town To Hamza, santon of renown. ‘My head is sick, my hands are wea… Thy help, O holy man, I seek.’ In silence marking for a space

The goodman sat beside his door One sultry afternoon, With his young wife singing at his… An old and goodly tune. A glimmer of heat was in the air,-

Ho! thou who seekest late and long A License from the Holy Book For brutal lust and fiendish wrong… Man of the Pulpit, look! Lift up those cold and atheist eye…

The pines were dark on Ramoth hil… Their song was soft and low; The blossoms in the sweet May win… Were falling like the snow. The blossoms drifted at our feet,