"Not to myself alone,"The little opening flower transportd cries;"Not to myself alone I bud and bloom;With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume,And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes.The bee comes sipping, every eventide,His dainty fill;The…
If in the silence of this lonely eve,
With the street-lamp pale-flickering on the wall,
A spirit were to say to me—"Believe,
Thou shalt be answered. Call!"—Whom should I call?
And when I were to see thee gliding in
With thy pale robes (that in…
Pain's furnace heat within me quivers,
God's breath upon the flame doth blow,
And all my heart in anguish shivers,
And trembles at the fiery glow;
And yet I whisper as God will! And in its hottest fire hold still. He comes and lays my heart, all…
Make me a grave where'ere you will,In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill; Make it among earth's humblest graves,But not in a land where men are slaves.I could not rest if around my graveI heard the steps of a trembling slave;His shadow above my silent…
Down, down, Ellen, my little one,
Climbing so tenderly up to my knee;
Why should you add to the thoughts that are taunting me,
Dreams of your mother's arms clinging to me?
Cease, cease, Ellen my little one,
Warbling so fairily close to my…
'Tis well to have a merry heart,
However short we stay;
There's wisdom in a merry heart,
Whate'er the world may say!
Philosophy may lift its head,
And find out many a flaw,
But give me that philosophy
That's happy with a straw!
If life but…
This incident is related of George III., who, being on a hunting excursion with a party of his nobles, was met by a poor child who had vainly sought to obtain the services of a clergyman for her dying mother. He accompanied her to the spot where the…
O! dreadful, crushing thought, that grinds itselfInto the soul of him who knows and feelsHe bears a name whose mention will debarHim from all right. It indicates no crime—Fixes upon the soul no stain of sin—And from the exalted character of manTakes…
Up, up, and be stirring! there's much to be done;There's a fight to be fought, there's a field to be won.'TIs a field that is guiltless of tears or of blood,That is fruitful of blessings, and potent for good.
So, up and be stirring!
Up, up, and be…
The mildest, prettiest little girl—
Ah! woe is me!—
Who ever wore her hair in curl,
Was Rosalie.
Her hazel eyes and hair of jet
I put in rhyme;
I loved her from the hour we met—
O, happy time.
On day I asked her, "Wi't thou wed?"
Assent she…
