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The Princes' Ques -Part the Eighth
© William Watson
Now as it chanced, the day was almost spent
When down the lonely mountain-side he went,
Fragments Of An Unfinished Poem
© James Russell Lowell
I am a man of forty, sirs, a native of East Haddam,
And have some reason to surmise that I descend from Adam;
The Norsemen
© John Greenleaf Whittier
GIFT from the cold and silent Past!
A relic to the present cast,
Love In A Cottage
© Daniel Henry Deniehy
A cottage small be mine, with porch
Enwreathed with ivy green,
And brightsome flowers with dew-filled bells,
'Mid brown old wattles seen.
Ogrin The Hermit
© Edith Wharton
Ogrin the Hermit in old age set forth
This tale to them that sought him in the extreme
Ancient grey wood where he and silence housed:
Rowers Chant
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Row till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
The Abencerrage : Canto III.
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Onward their slow and stately course they bend
To where the Alhambra's ancient towers ascend,
Reared and adorned by Moorish kings of yore,
Whose lost descendants there shall dwell no more.
The Lost Letter
© Henry Clay Work
Two lives wreck'd by a zephyr!
Two hearts crush'd by the fall,
When that most precious missive, that love laden letter,
Flutter'd down thro' the gap in the wall.
A Muff
© Jessie Pope
My muscles are tough,
I'm not sickly or pale;
But that shop was enough
To make Hercules quail.
The ladies were snatching and gripping,
Each using her arm like a flail.
The Princess Pats
© Edgar Albert Guest
A touch of the plain and the prairie,
A bit of the Motherland, too;
The Good Craft _Snow Bird_
© Herman Melville
Strenuous need that head-wind be
From purposed voyage that drives at last
The ship, sharp-braced and dogged still,
Beating up against the blast.
Address, Spoken At The Opening Of Drury-Lane Theatre. Saturday, October 10, 1812
© George Gordon Byron
In one dread night our city saw, and sigh'd,
Bow'd to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride
In one short hour beheld the blazing fane,
Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease to reign.
The Homestead
© Bliss William Carman
HERE we came when love was young.
Now that love is old,
Shall we leave the floor unswept
And the hearth acold?
The Tears Expressive
© Edgar Albert Guest
Death crossed his threshold yesterday
And left the glad voice of his loved one dumb.
To him the living now will come
And cross his threshold in the self-same way
To clasp his hand and vainly try to say
Words that shall soothe the heart that's stricken numb.
Home, In War-Time
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
She turned the fair page with her fairer hand-
More fair and frail than it was wont to be-
