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I have left my husband I do declare,And have reason for to care --My bread to gain, one child to maintain,If I had the other then I'd count it gain.He is not tall nor very slim.If you see him once you'll know 'tis him. -Benjamin Hobart is his…

Chain'd foot to foot and hand to hand, The captives took their way, Goaded along by scourge or brand, Wearied and sad, to the distant strand Where the darkling slave-ship lay. Fearful its hidden dangers were, Where comes no breath of balmy air To…

Hail glorious day, of heavenly birth,A sacred day to moral worth,A day which is our God's alone,A day we cannot call our own.A day on which we should not say,Or do what we would every day -From worldly bus'ness should refrain,And seek for more…

And thus they flit away Earth's lovely things. Where's the snow - the summer's snow - On the lovely lilly flower? Where the hues the sunset shed O'er the rose's crimson hour? Where's the gold - the bright pure gold - O'er the young laburnum…

Spring hath bless'd us with its flowersBlooming on the woodland sod;Birds have caroll'd o'er our bowersMusic wheresoe'er we've trod.Gone! they've fled, and summer smilingCame with sylphid step o'er earth,All our fancied ills beguiling,Wings to care…

I love the dews of night,I love the howling wind,I love to hear the tempest sweepO'er the billows of the deep:For nature's saddest scenes delightThe melancholy mind.Autumn! I love thy bowerWith faded garlands drest:How sweet alone to linger…

Serena, dead? oh no, she sleeps Beneath the massy ground; While the tender mother weeps, And sisters moan around. Serena sleeps in silent rest, Nipp'd with the budding rose; But. oh, she is supremely blest, In sweet and calm repose. Serena sleeps,…

How sweetly sinks the setting sunO'er yon blue mountain in the west,And man his daily labour done,Betakes him to his home and rest.Behold the scene! how soft and fair;Not yet hath twilight wheel'd her car,But o'er the valley, through the air,The…

I asked old time and the spheres,To answer this question so high;Days, months, and the swift rolling yearsBut neither gave any replyI stood on a steep precipice,And call'd to the surges below,If ocean could answer me this?Its hoarse billows murmured…

My earrings! my earrings! they've dropt into the well,And what to say to Muca, I cannot, cannot tell-'Twas thus Grenada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter,The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold blue water-To me did Muca give…