To Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart (Mattie Griffith Browne Poems)
MY cousin, I have never seen thee--yetFrom childhood's early years my dearest thoughtsHave been so full of thee, I almost ...
MY cousin, I have never seen thee--yetFrom childhood's early years my dearest thoughtsHave been so full of thee, I almost ...
"Come, sing a new song to her here while we listen!"They cry to her sons who sing;And one sings: " ...
Straying, musing, singing, dreaming,'Neath the leafy banners streaming,Fleck'd with golden sunbeams gleaming Through the woodland's dun;On lone Calder's banks reclining,Where the ...
Be kind when you can, though the kindness be little,'Tis small letters make up philosophers' scrolls;The crystal of Happiness, vivid ...
And a man said, "Speak to us of Self-Knowledge."And he answered, saying:Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the ...
There is a sweet well--spring of purity In the holy heart, whereout unceasing flow Its living waters, freshening as they go The weary ...
THE BODY Call in the dancers. THE SOUL All is vain. We live, and living is the pain We die ...
Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?I will not ...
IWith love exceeding a simple love of the thingsThat glide in grasses and rubble of woody wreck;Or change their perch ...
This is the tale that the ChronicleTells of the wonderful miracleWrought by the pious Padre Serro,The very reverend Junipero.The heathen ...
I hied me to the ocean-side; Its waves rolled bright and high; Upon its waters, spreading wide, ...
Whate'er thou dost thou'rt dear. Uncertain troubles sanctify ...
Over the smooth lawns, broider'd with violets, Over the hedges of snow-white thorn, Over the billowy, pink apple-blossoms, ...
I hied me to the ocean-side; Its waves rolled bright and high; Upon its waters, spreading wide, ...
ON nerveless, tuneless lines how sadlyRinging rhymes may wasted be,While blank verse oft is mere prose madlyStriving to be poetry:While ...
And a man said, "Speak to us of Self-Knowledge." And he answered, saying: Your hearts know in silence the secrets ...
Thousand minstrels woke within me, "Our music's in the hills; "- Gayest pictures rose to win me, Leopard-colored rills. Up!-If ...
To the music of Beethoven's ninth symphony Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love; Hearts unfold ...
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh ...
I, MY dear, was born to-day-- So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, And ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
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