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/ page 171 of 465 /To My Husband on Our Wedding-Day
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
I leave for thee, beloved one,
The home and friends of youth,
O'Connell
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
So let the verse in echoing accents ring,
So proudly sing,
With intermittent wail,
The nation's dead, but sceptred King,
The glory of the Gael.
The Hired Man And Floretty
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Hired Man's supper, which he sat before,
In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-door
And one leaf of the kitchen-table, was
Somewhat belated, and in lifted pause
His dextrous knife was balancing a bit
Of fried mush near the port awaiting it.
The Paint-Kings
© Washington Allston
Fair Ellen was long the delight of the young,
No damsel could with her compare;
Her charms were the theme of the heart and the tongue.
And bards without number in extacies sung,
The beauties of Ellen the fair.
Ashore At Dover
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
On landing, the first voice one hears is from
An English police-constable; a man
The Child
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Lone played the child within the magic wood,
Where fountains sang and sunshine ever glowed;
Elegy XX (Alternate) Love's War
© John Donne
Till I have peace with thee, warr other Men,
And when I have peace, can I leave thee then?
Consolation
© Anonymous
The mother drew the baby to her knee,
And, smiling, said: "The stars shine soft tonight;
My world is fair; its edges sweet to me,
And whatsoever is, dear Lord, is right."
The Quaker Widow
© James Bayard Taylor
THEE finds me in the garden, Hannah,come in! T is kind of thee
To wait until the Friends were gone, who came to comfort me.
The still and quiet company a peace may give, indeed,
But blessed is the single heart that comes to us at need.
Whyte-Melville
© William Henry Ogilvie
With lightest of hands on the bridle, with Highest of
hearts in the dance,
To N. V. De G. S.
© Robert Louis Stevenson
THE UNFATHOMABLE sea, and time, and tears,
The deeds of heroes and the crimes of kings
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Poet's Tale; The Birds of Killingworth
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was the season, when through all the land
The merle and mavis build, and building sing
St. Michael's Mount
© William Lisle Bowles
INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD SOMERS.
While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide,
An Appeal
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh! is there not one maiden breast
Which does not feel the moral beauty
The Story Without End
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Before my time my kindred were
As felons in their land,