THE bugler sent a call of high ro… “Lights out! Lights out!” to the… On the thin brazen notes he threw… “God, if it’s this for me next tim… O spare the phantom bugle as I li…
Mother: Alice, dear, what ails yo… Dazed and white and shaken? Has the chill night numbed you? Is it fright you have taken? Alice: Mother I am very well,
Lost manor where I walk continual… A ghost, while yet in woman’s fles… Up your broad stairs mounting with… And gliding steadfast down your co… I come by nightly custom to this r…
Love without hope, as when the you… Swept off his tall hat to the Squ… So let the imprisoned larks escape… Singing about her head, as she rod…
Kill if you must, but never hate: Man is but grass and hate is bligh… The sun will scorch you soon or la… Die wholesome then, since you must… Hate is a fear, and fear is rot
Why do you break upon this old, co… This painted peace of ours, With harsh dress hissing like a fl… With garish flowers? Why do you churn smooth waters rou…
The great sun sinks behind the tow… Through a red mist of Volnay wine… But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the tow… You’ll only skip the page, you’ll…
At Viscount Nelson’s lavish funer… While the mob milled and yelled ab… A General chatted with an Admiral… “One of your colleagues, Sir, rem… That Nelson’s exit, though to be…
Truth—loving Persians do not dwel… The trivial skirmish fought near… As for the Greek theatrical tradi… Which represents that summer’s exp… Not as a mere reconnaisance in for…
Owls —they whinny down the night; Bats go zigzag by. Ambushed in shadow beyond sight The outlaws lie. Old gods, tamed to silence, there
May they stumble, stage by stage On an endless Pilgrimage Dawn and dusk, mile after mile At each and every step a stile At each and every step withal
Nine of the clock, oh! Wake my lazy head! Your shoes of red morocco, Your silk bed—gown: Rouse, rouse, speck—eyed Mary
This is a wild land, country of my… With harsh craggy mountain, moor a… Seldom in these acres is heard any… But voice of cold water that runs… Through rocks and lank heather gro…
Beauty in trouble flees to the goo… On whom she can rely To pay her cab—fare, run a steamin… Poultice her bruised eye; Will not at first, whether for sha…
All saints revile her, and all sob… Ruled by the God Apollo’s golden… In scorn of which we sailed to fin… In distant regions likeliest to ho… Whom we desired above all things t…
