Prometheus stole from Heaven the… And swept to earth with it o’er la… He lit the vestal flames of poesy, Content, for this, to brave celest… Wroth were the gods, and with eter…

Love of home, sublimest passion That the human heart can know! Changeless still, though fate and… Rise and fall and ebb and flow, To the glory of our nation,

A LOVER whom duty called over t… With himself communed: ‘Will my l… If left to herself? Had I better… Some friend to watch over her, goo… But my friend might fail in my nee…

He was a poet who wrote clever ver… And folks said he had a fine poeti… But his father, a practical farmer… Of letting the strength of his arm… He called on his sweetheart each…

Shadder in de valley Sunlight on de hill, Sut’ny wish dat locus’ Knowed how to be still. Don’t de heat already

When first of wise old Johnson ta… My youthful mind its homage brough… And made the pond’rous crusty sage The object of a noble rage. Nor did I think (How dense we are…

Belated wanderer of the ways of sp… Lost in the chill of grim Novembe… Would I could read the message th… And find in it the antidote for pa… Does some sad spirit out beyond th…

In this old garden, fair, I walk… Heart—charmed with all the beauty… The rich, luxuriant grasses’ cooli… The wall’s environ, ivy—decked and… The waving branches with the wind…

We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs, In dis howlin’ wildaness, Fu’ to speak some words of comfo’t To each othah in distress. An’ we chooses fu’ ouah subjic’

BEYOND the years the answer lie… Beyond where brood the grieving sk… And Night drops tears. Where Faith rod—chastened smiles… And doff its fears,

THE little bird sits in the nest… A shy, soft song to the morning li… And it flutters a little and prune… The song is halting and poor and b… And the fluttering wings scarce st…

EF you’s only got de powah fe’ to… Keep ermong de people wid de whist… Ef you don’t, you’ll fin’ out sho’… In a place dat’s all a bed o’ this… 'Tain’t no use a—goin’ now, ez sho…

Oh, summer has clothed the earth In a cloak from the loom of the su… And a mantle, too, of the skies’ s… And a belt where the rivers run. And now for the kiss of the wind,

I am the mother of sorrows, I am the ender of grief; I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late—falling leaf. I am thy priest and thy poet,