AWAY to the well lilted Annie; Away with her skiel to the well; Away to the well whistled Johnnie… The pride and delight of the dell. Sweet, sweet is the well; but ah,…

I’m the spirit Emmalina thy guard… Drawn hither by a subtle law but f… The golden cord of sympathy I lea… Thy aching brows with lilies to en… I have watched thee late and early…

WHEN Day once stirs, her locks o… Up, seize, ere she is well awaken! And with her steps thy paces hold, Till she from Earth her leave hat… What tho’ upon the way she frown,

MUST all the passion which I’ve… So long to hide be paid with scorn… And must a bosom framed for love, Be doomed a hopeless love to mourn… And must thou still its homage spu…

A KNIGHT right bold rode over t… Saluted maidens three: ‘Now, if each possess’d what she l… What would her portion be?’ The eldest replied: ‘A carriage o…

WHEN first the maiden fair I eye… —This world is a world of grief al… A lily she held and a rose beside But I was doomed her lot to moan. The rose was gain’s and the lily w…

A GOLDEN sun went down to-night… When lo! a vision from the olden Time, flashed on my inner sight, With smiles more tender and as gol… My blood ran cold; for I did know

OH, what is Life? A magic nigh… In which we still to phantoms yiel… And what is Death, if not the lig… By which the real truth’s reveal’d…

MY little boy, thy laughter Goes to my bosom core, And sends me yearning after The days that are no more. Adown my cheek is stealing

I READ in an old book the myth Of the Hellenian damsel with The magic needle, when there fell On me a power—a mystic spell— I could not well to others tell.

PERFIDIOUS damsel, with thy d… Those skill’d enchanters of a sunn… Thou, thou hast charmed the dragon… Before my soul’s Hesperides, and… Her fruit of burnished ore—the sou…

YOU quite mistake the sprite you… I’m of the under, not the upper, Order of the fairy race; And cannot go with you to supper. ‘You silly elf, Titania’s self

FROM the pipe-end off it glides, Many hued appearing; What, if cynic harsh derides, Sets the boys a-staring. In their eyes gleam its dyes,

I NEVER said my verse you’d moc… Nor how you’d giggled at my gramma… You, on whom Fame her door has lo… I little mark’d your empty clamour… I merely said that when you’d call…

THE bitter wind blows o’er the de… —The bloom from the blossom foreve… And I must trudge on thro’ the sl… And sweet to my heart were the lot… Upon my shrunk bosom sleep seizeth…