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I passed, one autumn morn, a wanderer in the wood,His large sade eyes peered on the ground, his feet the dead leaves strewedAnd the hazy Indian summer fell on the woodland drear,And not unlike the wanderer's heart, the world was sad and sear;But…

My days pass pleasantly away; My nights are blest with sweepest sleep; I fees no symptom's of decay; I have no cause to mourn nor weep; My foes are impotent and shy; My friends are neither false nor cold, And yet, of late, I often sigh— I'm…

I watch for thee when parting day
Sheds on the earth a lingering ray;
When his last blushes o'er the rose
A richer tint of crimson throws,
And every flowert's leaves are curled
Like beauty shrinking from the world;
When silence reigns o'er lawn…

My God! is any hour so sweet, From blush of morn to evening star, As that which calls me to Thy feet, The hour of prayer? Blest is that tranquil hour of morn, And blest that hour of solemn eve, When on the wings of prayer upborne, The world I…

Tell me, ye gentle winds That round my pathway play, Is there no place on earth Where printer's get their pay? The whispering breeze went by With accents filled with woe; A voice borne on the sorrowing air, In sadness answered "No." Tell me,…

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…

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…

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,…

"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…

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…