They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead… That all of thee we loved and cher… Has with thy summer roses perished… And left, as its young beauty fled… An ashen memory in its stead,

As Adam did in Paradise, To-day the primal right we claim Fair mirror of the woods and skies… We give to thee a name. Lake of the pickerel!—let no more

THE Quaker of the olden time! How calm and firm and true, Unspotted by its wrong and crime, He walked the dark earth through. The lust of power, the love of gai…

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…

BENEATH thy skies, November! Thy skies of cloud and rain, Around our blazing camp-fires We close our ranks again. Then sound again the bugles,

O painter of the fruits and flower… We own wise design, Where these human hands of ours May share work of Thine! Apart from Thee we plant in vain

How sweetly on the wood-girt town The mellow light of sunset shone! Each small, bright lake, whose wat… Mirror the forest and the hill, Reflected from its waveless breast

We live by Faith; but Faith is no… Of text and legend. Reason’s voic… Nature’s and Duty’s, never are at… What asks our Father of His child… Justice and mercy and humility,

‘Encore un hymne, O ma lyre Un hymn pour le Seigneur, Un hymne dans mon delire, Un hymne dans mon bonheur.’ One hymn more, O my lyre!

HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o’… Through cane-brake and forest,—the… The lords of our land to this hunt… As the fox-hunter follows the soun… Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the…

SECRETARY OF THE BOS… Gone before us, O our brother, To the spirit-land! Vainly look we for another In thy place to stand.

Where Time the measure of his hou… By changeful bud and blossom keeps… And, like a young bride crowned wi… Fair Shiraz in her garden sleeps; Where, to her poet’s turban stone,

Spare me, dread angel of reproof, And let the sunshine weave to-day Its gold-threads in the warp and w… Of life so poor and gray. Spare me awhile; the flesh is weak…

Far away in the twilight time Of every people, in every clime, Dragons and griffins and monsters… Born of water, and air, and fire, Or nursed, like the Python, in th…

His laurels fresh from song and la… Romance, art, science, rich in all… And young of heart, how dare we sa… We keep his seventieth festival? No sense is here of loss or lack;