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The Choice
© Katharine Tynan
When skies are blue and days are bright
A kitchen-garden's my delight,
Set round with rows of decent box
And blowsy girls of hollyhocks.
A Bird Came Down
© Emily Dickinson
A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
The Year-King
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
It is the last of all the days,
The day on which the Old Year dies.
Ah! yes, the fated hour is near;
I see upon his snow-white bier
Outstretched the weary wanderer lies,
And mark his dying gaze.
Grandmother's Story Of Bunker Hill Battle (as she saw it from the Belfry)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers
All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls";
When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story,
To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.
An Epistle To A Friend
© Samuel Rogers
When, with a Reaumur's skill, thy curious mind
Has class'd the insect-tribes of human-kind,
Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,
Its subtle, web-work, or its venom'd sting;
The Maid-Martyr
© Jean Ingelow
Her face, O! it was wonderful to me,
There was not in it what I look'd for-no,
I never saw a maid go to her death,
How should I dream that face and the dumb soul?
Making Feet And Hands
© Benjamin Péret
Eye standing up eye lying down eye sitting
Why wander about between two hedges made of stair-rails while the ladders become soft
A Sketch
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
HER Leghorn hat was of the bright gold tint
The setting sunbeams give to autumn clouds;
The ribband that encircled it as blue
As spots of sky upon a moonless night,
Alfred. Book V.
© Henry James Pye
As o'er the tented field the squadrons spread,
Stretch'd on the turf the hardy soldier's bed;
While the strong mound, and warder's careful eyes,
Protect the midnight camp from quick surprise,
A voice, in hollow murmurs from the plain,
Attracts the notice of the wakeful train.
Dulce Domum,
© Helen Maria Williams
AN OLD LATIN ODE.
SUNG ANNUALLY BY THE WlNCHESTER BOYS UPON
LEAVING COLLEGE AT THE VACATION. [Translated at the Request of DR. JOSEPH WARTON.]
An Essay on Death and a Prison
© Henry King
A prison is in all things like a grave,
Where we no better priviledges have
Then dead men, nor so good. The soul once fled
Lives freer now, then when she was cloystered
The Tasmanian Aborigine's Lament
© Anonymous
Fair island of my birth, thy distant rocks
Call forth the tenderest feelings of my heart;
Although the sight of thee my yearning mocks,
For cruel waves thee from my children part.
Ah! White man, why---Oh! Why thy childhood's home
Did'st thou abandon, to drive us from ours?
Tatiana's Letter
© Alexander Pushkin
Allotted unto you was I
E'en from the moment of my birth
And loyal to my future fate;
And God, I know, sent you to be
My champion and my advocate
Till the grave closes over me. . . .
Welcome To The Chicago Commercial Club
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CHICAGO sounds rough to the maker of verse;
One comfort we have--Cincinnati sounds worse;
If we only were licensed to say Chicago!
But Worcester and Webster won't let us, you know.
Der Asra
© Heinrich Heine
Every day so lovely, shining,
Up and down, the Sultans daughter
Walked at evening by the water,
Where the white fountain splashes.
Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book II.
© John Gay
Of Walking the Streets by Day.
Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
Possession
© Edith Nesbit
THE child was yours and none of mine,
And yet you gave it me to keep,
And bade me sew it raiment fine,
And wrap my kisses round its sleep.
Outside The Village Church
© Alfred Austin
``The old Church doors stand open wide,
Though neither bells nor anthems peal.
Gazing so fondly from outside,
Why do you enter not and kneel?
