AUGUST 21, 1868 BROTHERS, whom we may not reac… Through the veil of alien speech, Welcome! welcome! eyes can tell What the lips in vain would spell,…

J. A. ONE memory trembles on our lips; It throbs in every breast; In tear-dimmed eyes, in mirth’s ec… The shadow stands confessed.

THIRTY-SIXTH VARIATION THIS shred of song you bid me br… Is snatched from fancy’s embers; Ah, when the lips forget to sing, The faithful heart remembers!

HE was all sunshine; in his face The very soul of sweetness shone; Fairest and gentlest of his race; None like him we can call our own. Something there was of one that di…

INTRODUCTION TO A CO… AN usher standing at the door I show my white rosette; A smile of welcome, nothing more, Will pay my trifling debt;

LITTLE I ask; my wants are few; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very plain brown stone will do,… That I may call my own; And close at hand is such a one,

JANUARY 25, 1859 His birthday.—Nay, we need not sp… The name each heart is beating,— Each glistening eye and flushing c… In light and flame repeating!

OLD Rip Van Winkle had a grands… Of the paternal block a genuine ch… A lazy, sleepy, curious kind of ch… He, like his grandsire, took a mig… Whereof the story I propose to te…

THE Banker’s dinner is the state… The town has heard of for a year,… The sparry lustres shed their broa… Damask and silver catch and spread… The florist’s triumphs crown the d…

THE summer dawn is breaking On Auburn’s tangled bowers, The golden light is waking On Harvard’s ancient towers; The sun is in the sky

I’M not a chicken; I have seen Full many a chill September, And though I was a youngster then… That gale I well remember; The day before, my kite-string sna…

Yet in the darksome crypt I left… Whose only altar is its rusted gra… Sepulchral, rayless, joyless as it… Shamed by the glare of May’s refu… While the dim seasons dragged thei…

THIS is our place of meeting; op… That towered and pillared building… King’s Chapel in the Second Geor… Rebellion stole its regal name awa… Stone Chapel sounded better; but…

SHE has gone,—she has left us in… Our stormy-browed sister, so long… She has torn her own star from our… And turned on her brother the face… Oh, Caroline, Caroline, child of…

IT is not what we say or sing, That keeps our charm so long unbro… Though every lightest leaf we brin… May touch the heart as friendship’… Not what we sing or what we say