THE world is full of toil,
It bids the traveler roam,
It binds the laborer to the soil,
The student to his home -
The beasts of burden sigh,
O'erloaded and opprest -
The Sabbath lifts its banner high,
And gives the weary rest.
The world is…
It was a fearful night,
The strong flame sped
From street to street, from spire to spire,
And on their treasures tread;
Hark! 'Tis a mother's cry,
High o'er the tumlt wild,
As rushing toward her flame wrapped home
She shriek'd - My child! My…
Get up, little sister; the morning is bright,And the birds are all singing to welcome the light;The buds are all opening - the dew's on the flower;If you shake but a branch, see there falls quite a shower.By the side of their mothers, look, under the…
The year is young; and hope withinOur hearts is gently stirred,As is the breast - upon her nest -Of tender mother bird.Harsh fate checked ambition's flightAnd fears our hearts have filled;And all ahead seemed dark and dead,As blighting fate had…
Ho, for the West! where virgin soilInvites the willing laborer's toil;Where lands as broad as either sea,The home of millions yet to be,Await the touch of hoe and share,Their dark brown richness to prepare,The seed to hold, the fruit to give;That…
Only a bunch of lilacs,
Laid on a coffin lid;
'Neath which the face of a loved one
From tearful eyes lies hid.
Only a loving tribute
From hands by toil made hard.
Blossoms from Nature's garden
Or cotter's humble yard.
Only a bunch of…
Behold against the western skyThe sacred banner waves on high;That banner which our race has borneA thousand years triumphant on,Gleaming through England's glorious days,Lightning our father's darkest ways,The beacon bright on Plymouth's night,The…
"The attack on Fort Felon was made, it is supposed, by Phillip and his gang. The action must have taken place before the information of the truce could have been received by the Indians who made the attack. - (Southern paper.) Blaze! with your…
The night was made for cooling shade,
For silence, and for sleep;
And when I was a child, I laid My hands upon my breast and prayed,
And sank to slumbers deep.
Child-like as then I lie to-night, And watch my lonely cabin light. Each movement of…
There is a mystic thread of life,
So dearly wreath's with mine alone,
That destiny's relentless knife
At once must sever both or none.
There is a form on which these eyes
Have often gazed with fond delight;
By day that form their joy supplies,
And…
