Als du im Saal mit deiner himmlis… Beethoven zeigst, und seinem Will… Mit den zehn Fingern fuehrst der… Zehn Zungen sagen was der Meister… Schauend dich an, ich seh’, dass n…

O Age that half believ’st thou ha… Half doubt’st the substance of thi… And, half perceiving that thou hal… Stand’st at thy temple door, heart… Lo! while thy heart’s within, help…

Time, hurry my Love to me: Haste, haste! Lov’st not good co… Here’s but a heart-break sandy was… ‘Twixt Now and Then. Why, killi… Were best, dear Time, for thee, f…

Young palmer sun, that to these sh… Pourest thy pilgrim’s tale, discou… Thy silver passages of sacred land… With news of Sepulchre and Doloro… Canst thou be he that, yester-suns…

From cold Norse caves or buccanee… Oft come repenting tempests here t… Bewailing old-time wrecks and robb… They shrive to priestly pines with… Breathe salutary balms through lan…

It was three slim does and a ten-t… And all of a sudden the sinister s… Awaft on a wind-shift, wavered and… Down the hill-side and sifted alon… Then Nan got a-tremble at nostril…

(Killed at Surrey C. H., October… . . . . . Dear friend, forgive a wild lament Insanely following thy flight. I would not cumber thine ascent

Death, thou’rt a cordial old and r… Look how compounded, with what car… Time got his wrinkles reaping thee Sweet herbs from all antiquity. David to thy distillage went,

Down mildest shores of milk-white… By cape and fair Floridian bay, Twixt billowy pines—a surf asleep… And the great Gulf at play, Past far-off palms that filmed to…

Joust First. Bright shone the lists, blue bent… And the knights still hurried amai… To the tournament under the ladies… Where the jousters were Heart and…

From the German of Heine. In the far North stands a Pine-tr… Upon a wintry height; It sleeps: around it snows have t… A covering of white.

‘Opinion, let me alone: I am not… Prim Creed, with categoric point,… To feature me my Lord by rule and… Thou canst not measure Mistress N… Not one sweet inch: nay, if thy si…

Swift, through some trap mine eyes… Dim-panelled in the painted scene… Thou, giant Harlequin of Dreams,… Upon my spirit’s stage. Then Sig… Then Space and Time, then Langua…

If spicy-fringed pinks that blush… With passions of perfume,—if viole… That hint of heaven with odor more… If perfect roses, each a holy Gra… Wherefrom the blood of beauty doth…