FAIR Isle at Sea —thy lovely na… Soft in my ear like music came. That sea I loved, and once or twi… I touched at isles of Paradise.

HAIL! Childish slaves of social… You had yourselves a hand in makin… How I could shake your faith, ye… If but I thought it worth the sha… I see, and pity you; and then

I SEND to you, commissioners, A paper that may please ye, sirs (For troth they say it might be wo… An’ I believe’t) And on your business lay my curse

I DO not fear to own me kin To the glad clods in which spring… Or to my brothers, the great trees… That speak with pleasant voices in… Loud talkers with the winds that p…

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.

Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers hi… Though closer still the blinds we…

I woke before the morning, I was… I never said an ugly word, but smi… And now at last the sun is going d… And I am very happy, for I know t… My bed is waiting cool and fresh,…

THOUGH deep indifference should… The sluggish life beneath my brows… And all the external things I see Grow snow—showers in the street to… Yet inmost in my stormy sense

Children, you are very little, And your bones are very brittle; If you would grow great and statel… You must try to walk sedately. You must still be bright and quiet…

She rested by the Broken Brook, She drank of Weary Well, She moved beyond my lingering look… Ah, whither none can tell! She came, she went. In other lan…

I sit and wait a pair of oars On cis-Elysian river-shores. Where the immortal dead have sate, 'T is mine to sit and meditate; To re-ascend life’s rivulet,

I have a hoard of treasure in my b… The grange of memory steams agains… Full of my bygone lifetime’s garne… Old pleasures crowned with sorrow… Old sorrow grown a joy, old penanc…

ON now, although the year be done… Now, although the love be dead, Dead and gone; Hear me, O loved and cherished on… Give me still the hand that led,

Late in the nicht in bed I lay, The winds were at their weary play… An’ tirlin’ wa’s an’ skirlin’ wae Through Heev’n they battered; - On-ding o’ hail, on-blaff o’ spray…