I've lost my little May at last;
She perished in the spring,
When earliest flowers began to bud,
And earliest birds to sing;
I laid her in a country grav,
A green and soft retreat,
A marble tablet o'er her head,
And violets at her feet.
I…
I know that it must be,
Yea! thou art changed—all worshipped as thou art— Mourned as thou shalt be! Sickness of the heart
Hath done its work on thee!
Thy dim eyes tell a tale,
A piteous tale, of vigils; and the traceOf bitter tears is on thy…
Suppose the little cowslip
Should hang its golden cup
And say, "I'm such a tiny flower,
I'd better now grow up"—
How many a weary traveler
Would miss its fragrant smell,
How many a little child would grieve
To lose it from the dell!
Suppose…
Drop follows drop, and swells
With rain the sweeping river;
Word follows word, and tells
A truth that lives forever.
Flake follows flake, like sprites
Whose wings the winds dissever;
Thought follows thought, and lights
The realm of mind…
Autumn! I love thy tinted looks, Thy faded leaves, and chilling brooks,
And variegated flowers;
Thy cooling winds and wither'd grass, Precurser of the stormy glast,
And fluctuating showers.
Thy cloudy days and chilling nights, And ripen'd fruits,…
Close the door lightly,
Bridle the breath,
Our little earth Angel
Is talking with death;
Gently he wooes her,
She wishes to stay,
His arms are about her—
He bears her away!
Music comes floating
Down from the dome;
Angels are chanting
The…
"Man was never made to mourn,"
Spring, Appollo, to thy feet!
Cast despairing thoughts away,
Taste the cup of life how sweet.
Seize the hammer, seize the spade,
Yoke the oxen to the plough,
And bright thy lamps of life shall be,
Earning plenty…
Ah! dark skinned tribes, though black we be,God, our creator, made us free;To all He life and being gave,But never, never made a slave.His works, all wondrous to behold,Proclaim to us a power untold;He made the sea and formed the wave,But never,…
I little knew the worth of sight,
Before m lamp was snatched away,
Ah! had I garnered up the light,
My mind had not been dark to-day;
Had coming eve foreshadowed thought,
How precious then would morn have been;
Alas! I saw not what I…
There is a time, just when the frost
Prepares to pave old Winter's way,
When Autumn, in a reverie lost,
The mellow daytime dreams away.
When Summer comes, in musing mind,
To gaze once more on hill and dell,
To mark how many sheaves they…
