'TIS over, Moses! All is lost! I hear the bells a-ringing; Of Pharaoh and his Red Sea host I hear the Free-Wills singing.* We’re routed, Moses, horse and fo…

ALL night above their rocky bed They saw the stars march slow; The wild Sierra overhead, The desert’s death below. The Indian from his lodge of bark…

My heart was heavy, for its trust… Abused, its kindness answered with… So, turning gloomily from my fello… One summer Sabbath day I strolled… The green mounds of the village bu…

Not vainly did old poets tell, Nor vainly did old genius paint God’s great and crowning miracle, The hero and the saint! For even in a faithless day

Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoar… Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn! Let other lands, exulting, glean

Over the threshold of his pleasant… Set in green clearings passed the… In simple trust, misdoubting not t… ‘Dear heart of mine!’ he said, ‘th… To trust the Lord for shelter.’ O…

Make, for he loved thee well, our… From wave and shore a low and long… For him, whose last look sought th… The unknown way from which no step… And ye, O ancient pine-trees, at…

AMIDST thy sacred effigies Of old renown give place, O city, Freedom-loved! to his Whose hand unchained a race. Take the worn frame, that rested n…

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

Of all that Orient lands can vaun… Of marvels with our own competing, The strangest is the Haschish pla… And what will follow on its eating… What pictures to the taster rise,

Talk not of sad November, when a… Of warm, glad sunshine fills the s… And a wind, borrowed from some mor… Stirs the brown grasses and the le… On the unfrosted pool the pillared…

The fourteen centuries fall away Between us and the Afric saint, And at his side we urge, to-day, The immemorial quest and old compl… No outward sign to us is given,—

Thrice welcome from the Land of F… And golden-fruited orange bowers To this sweet, green-turfed June… To her who, in our evil time, Dragged into light the nation’s cr…

How bland and sweet the greeting o… To him who flies From crowded street and red wall’s… Till far behind him like a hideous… The close dark city lies

I shall not soon forget that sight The glow of Autumn’s westering da… A hazy warmth, a dreamy light, On Raphael’s picture lay. It was a simple print I saw,