Far `yont amang the years to be When a’ we think, an’ a’ we see, An’ a’ we luve, `s been dung ajee By time’s rouch shouther, An’ what was richt and wrang for m…

I NOW, O friend, whom noiselessl… Settle around, and whose small cha… Dusk as the sloping window takes i… * * * * * The kindly hill, as to complete ou…

I heard the pulse of the besieging… Throb far away all night. I hear… Fly crying and convulse tumultuous… I rose and strolled. The isle wa… And flailing fans and shadows of t…

In rigorous hours, when down the i… The redbreast looks in vain For hips and haws, Lo, shining flowers upon my window… The silver pencil of the winter dr…

COME to me, all ye that labour;… Here apart in starry quiet I will… Come to me, ye heavy laden, sin de… In your father’s quiet mansions, s… But an hour you bear your trial, s…

It is not yours, O mother, to com… Not, mother, yours to weep, Though nevermore your son again Shall to your bosom creep, Though nevermore again you watch y…

All around the house is the jet—bl… It stares through the window—pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding f… And it moves with the moving flame… Now my little heart goes a beating…

The Hayloft Through all the pleasant meadow—si… The grass grew shoulder—high, Till the shining scythes went far… And cut it down to dry.

YOU remember, I suppose, How the August sun arose, And how his face Woke to trill and carolette All the cages that were set

The world is so full of a number o… I’m sure we should all be as happy…

TO her, for I must still regard h… As feminine in her degree, Who has been my unkind bombarder Year after year, in grief and glee… Year after year, with oaken tree;

AWAY with funeral music– set The pipe to powerful lips— The cup of life’s for him that dri… And not for him that sips.

Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don’t you wish that you were m… You have seen the scarlet trees

In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over

As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees… So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away,