Tauler, the preacher, walked, one… Without the walls of Strasburg, b… Pondering the solemn Miracle of L… As one who, wandering in a starles… Feels momently the jar of unseen w…

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 South-land boasts its teemin… The prairied West its heavy grain… And sunset’s radiant gates unfold On rising marts and sands of gold! Rough, bleak, and hard, our little…

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…

After the Danish of Christian Wi… Where, over heathen doom-rings and… In its little Christian city stan… In merry mood King Volmer sat, fo… As idle as the Goose of Gold that…

‘The cross, if rightly borne, shal… No burden, but support to thee;’ So, moved of old time for our sake… The holy monk of Kempen spake. Thou brave and true one! upon whom

A FEW brief years have passed aw… Since Britain drove her million s… Beneath the tropic’s fiery ray: God willed their freedom; and to-d… Life blooms above those island gra…

THE years are but half a score, And the war-whoop sounds no more With the blast of bugles, where Straight into a slaughter pen, With his doomed three hundred men,

On these green banks, where falls… The shade of Autumn’s afternoon, The south wind blowing soft and sw… The water gliding at nay feet, The distant northern range uplit

THE moon has set: while yet the d… Breaks cold and gray, Between the midnight and the morn Bear off your prey! On, swift and still! the conscious…

Last night, just as the tints of a… Of sunset faded from our hills and… I sat, vague listening, lapped in… To the leaf’s rustle, and the cric… Then, like that basket, flush with…

A tender child of summers three, Seeking her little bed at night, Paused on the dark stair timidly. ‘Oh, mother! Take my hand,’ said… ‘And then the dark will all be lig…

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,

She sang alone, ere womanhood had… The gift of song which fills the a… Tender and sweet, a music all her… May fitly linger where she knelt t…

THE winding way the serpent takes The mystic water took, From where, to count its beaded la… The forest sped its brook. A narrow space 'twixt shore and sh…