These verses have I pilfered like… Out of a letter from my C. C. C. In London, showing what befell hi… With other things, of interest to… One page described a night in open…

On the field of Waterloo we made… That ever out of Elba he decided… For we finished him that day, and… And yield himself to Maitland on… ’Twas a stubborn fight, no doubt,…

It was many and many a year ago, In a city by the sea, That a man there lived whom I hap… By the name of Andrew M’Crie; And this man he slept in another r…

Blue, blue is the sea to-day, Warmly the light Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay— Blue, fringed with white. That’s no December sky!

A day of gladness yet will dawn, Though when I cannot say; Perhaps it may be Thursday week, Perhaps some other day,— When man, freed from the bond of c…

Not the proudest damsel here Looks so well as doth my dear. All the borrowed light of dress Outshining not her loveliness, A loveliness not born of art,

When the weary night is fled, And the morning sky is red, Then my heart doth rise and say, ‘Surely she will come to-day.’ In the golden blaze of noon,

Oh, will the footsteps never be do… The insolent feet Thronging the street, Forsaken now of the only one. The only one out of all the throng…

I made a truce last night with So… The queen of tears, the foe of sle… To keep her tents until the morrow… Nor send such dreams to make me we… Before the lusty day was springing…

So in the village inn the poet dwe… His honey-dew was gone; only the p… His cousin’s work, her empty labou… But still he sniffed it, still a f… And lingered all about the broider…

You found my life, a poor lame bir… That had no heart to sing, You would not speak the magic word To give it voice and wing. Yet sometimes, dreaming of that ho…

My Lady of all ladies! Queen by r… Of tender beauty; full of gentle m… With eyes that look divine beatitu… Large eyes illumined with her spir… Lips that are lovely both by sound…

After the melting of the snow Divines depart and April comes; Examinations nearer grow After the melting of the snow; The grinder wears a face of woe,

Sleep flies me like a lover Too eagerly pursued, Or like a bird to cover Within some distant wood, Where thickest boughs roof over

In Algebra, if Algebra be ours, x and x2 can ne’er be equal powers… Unless x=1, or none at all. It is the little error in the sum, That by and by will make the answe…