Browse Items (213 total)

They sat and combed their beautiful hair, Their long bright tresses, one by one, As they laughed and talked in the chamber there, After the revel was done. Idly they talked of waltz and quadrille, Idly they laughed, like other girls, Who over…

Linger not long! Home is not home without thee, Its dearest token only make me mourn: Oh! let its memory, like a chain about thee, Gently compel and hasten thy return. Linger not long! Linger not long! Though crowds should woo thy…

My sorrow is no dream—the earth has none Whose bosom-chords are quivering for me; If the unending universe bears one, My mother—oh! my mother!—it is thee. And since the dark grave veiled thee from my sight, I have endured the loneliness of…

We find the following clever parody on Wordsworth's celebrated "Old Oaken Bucket" in the (old) "Spirit of the Times:" How sweet to the taste is the Irish potato, As memory awakens a thought of the plant; Its dark verdant vine-top and beautiful…

I loved them soThat when the elder Sheperd of the foldCam, covered with the storm, and pale and cold,And begged for one of my sweet lambs to hold,I bade him go.He claimed the pet,A little foundling thing, that to my breastClung always, either in…

Mistaken mortal, ever fretting, Grasping, grinding, groaning, getting, Be content! If thou hast enough, be thankful, Just as if thou had a bankful, Be content! If fortune cast thy lot but humble, Earn thy bread and do not grumble, Be…

Now is a constant warning stroke, Beat by the ceaseless clock of Time; A voice our wisdom to evoke, A mandate solemnly sublime; It bids us keep the soul awake, To do the best our means allow; To toil for truth's and virtue's sake, And make the…

Bear thee up bravely, Strong heart and true, Meet thy woes gravely, Strive with them too! Let them not win from thee Tears of regret; Such were a sin for thee— Hope for good yet! Rouse thee from drooping, Care-laden soul. Mournfully…

Time is drawing nearer, nearer, While our heads are turning gray; Tears are falling on life's mirror Every day! Time is closing beauty's portals, Flowers are blooming to decay; Fate is delving graves for mortals Every day! While our…

It must be sweet in childhood to give back The spirit to its Maker, ere the heart Has grown familiar with the paths of sin, And sown, to garner up its bitter fruits. I knew a boy whose infant feet had trod Upon the blossoms of some seven springs, And…