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Man
The human mind - that lofty thing!
The palace and the throne
Where reason sits, a sceptered king,
And breathes his judgment tone.
Oh! who with silent step shall trace The borders of that haunted place,
Nor in his weakness own
That mystery and…
Juan De Paresa. The Painter's Slave.
"Twas sunset upon Spain. The sky of JuneBent o'er her airy hills, and on their tops,The mountain cork-trees caught the fading lightOf a resplendent day. The painter threwHis pencil down, and with a glance of prideUpon his beautiful and finished…
The Freed Bird
THY cage is open'd bird - too well I love thee
To bar the sunny things of earth from thee:
A whole broad heaven of blue lies calm above thee,
The green wood waves beneath and thou art free.
These slender wires shall prison thee no more - Up,…
A Prayer
Father of all, this Sabbath night
My soul, I'll lift to thee, -
I pray that thou wilt guide me right,
'Till I am call'd to eternity.
Forbid, O Father! that I should stray
From thy most just command -
Lord sin abounds here every day,
Altho' at…
The Dying Mother
On breezy pinion mournful Eve came singing
Over the silent hills, and to the glades,
And violet-beds a stream of odours bringing,
And waking music in the forest-shades;
For 'twas the time when the lone cotter wending
His silent way along the…
Prayer of the Oppressed
List, list, the notes of anguish
From yonder arid plains,
Where millions groan and languish
'Neath slavery's galling chains.
To Heaven, with look imploring,
They urge their earnest prayer,
With humble hearts adoring
The God that reigneth…
A Parody
My country! 'tis for thee, Dark land of slavery,
For Thee I weep;
Land where the slave has signed, Land, where he toiled and died, To serve a tyrant's pride -
For thee I weep,
My native country! thee, Land of the noble free -
Of Liberty -
My…
A Hour in the Mountains
HIGH amid the mountain ridges
I have clim'b, and stand alone,
Where the mist the torrent bridges
In a world of stream and stone.
Dark ravines, and summits boary,
Downward steeps that scare the view,
Blocks whose sculpture hides a story
Human…
The Last Journey
Slowly, with measured tread, Onward we bear the dead
To his long home.
Short grows the homeward road, On with your mortal load.
Oh, grave! we come.
Yet, yet - ah! hasten not Past each remembered spot
Where he hath been;
Where late he walked in…
The Tocsin
Wake! children of the men who said,"All are born free!" Their spirits comeBack to the places where they bledIn Freedom's holy martyrdom,And find you sleeping on their graves,And hugging there your chains, - ye slaves!Ay - slaves of slaves! What,…