From Jean Pierre Claris Florian I love to see the swallows come At my window twittering, Bringing from their southern home News of the approaching spring.

Be ye happy, if ye may, In the years that pass away. Ye shall pass and be forgot, And your place shall know you not. Other generations rise,

For thee the birds shall never sin… Nor fresh green leaves come out up… The brook shall no more murmur the… For thee. Thou liest underneath the windswep…

[After Wordsworth.] It was a phantom of delight When first it gleamed upon my sigh… A scholarly distinction, sent To be a student’s ornament.

The life of earth, how full of pai… Which greets us on our day of birt… Nor leaves us while we yet retain The life of earth. There is a shadow on our mirth,

Beloved Peeler! friend and guide And guard of many a midnight reele… None worthier, though the world is… Beloved Peeler. Thou from before the swift four-wh…

When I was young and well and gla… I used to play at being sad; Now youth and health are fled away… At being glad I sometimes play.

Dear Ritchie, I am waiting for th… And tell me that the visit which h… Is to be a thing of now, and no mo… Dear Ritchie, I am waiting. The sea is at its bluest, and the…

My lamp is out, my task is done, And up the stair with lingering fe… I climb. The staircase clock stri… Good night, my love! good night, m… My solitary room I gain.

St. Andrews! not for ever thine s… Merely the shadow of a mighty name… The remnant only of an ancient fam… Which time has crumbled, as thy ro… For thou, to whom was given the ea…

Fickle Summer’s fled away, Shall we see her face again? Hearken to the weeping rain, Never sunbeam greets the day. More inconstant than the May,

Beside the drowsy streams that cre… Within this island of repose, Oh, let us rest from cares and woe… Oh, let us fold our hands to sleep… Is it ignoble, then, to keep

The sun is banished, The daylight vanished, No rosy traces Are left behind. Here in the meadow

No gift I bring but worship, and… Which all must bear to lovely soul… Those lights, that, when all else… Stars in the night, to lift our ey… To lift our eyes and hearts, and m…

If a pleasant lawn there grow By the showers caressed, Where in all the seasons blow Flowers gaily dressed, Where by handfuls one may win