|“Oft in the stilly night”||Thomas Moore||1799||
Oft in the stilly night,
|“Oh that ’t were possible”||Alfred, Lord Tennyson||
When I was wont to meet her
|“Oh! where do fairies hide their heads?”||Thomas Haynes Bayley||1817||
Oh! where do fairies hide their heads,
|“Old Ironsides”||Oliver Wendell Holmes||
[On the proposed breaking up of the United States frigate “Constitution”]
AY, tear her tattered ensign down!
|“One day I wrote her name”||Edmund Spenser||1572||
From “Amoretti.” Sonnet LXXV.
|“Only a year”||Harriet Beecher Stowe||
One year ago,—a ringing voice,
Only a year,—no voice, no smile,
|“Our boat to the waves”||William Ellery Channing||
Our boat to the waves go free,
Blasts may rave,—spread the sail,
|“Our God, our help in ages past”||Isaac Watts||1694||
Our God, our help in ages past,
Under the shadow of thy throne
|“Out from behind this mask”||Walt Whitman||1839||
To Confront His Own Portrait for “The Wound Dresser” in “Leaves of Grass”
OUT from behind this bending, rough-cut mask,
|“Out of the old house, Nancy”||Will Carleton||
Out of the old house, Nancy—moved up into the new;
What a shell we ’ve lived in, these...
|“Over the hill to the poor-house”||Will Carleton||
Over the hill to the poor-house I ’m trudgin’ my weary way—
Over the hill to the poor-house—I can’t quite...
|“Pack clouds away”||Thomas Heywood||177||
Pack clouds away, and welcome day,
|“Phillis is my only joy”||Sir Charles Sedley||1659||
Phillis is my only joy
|“Picciola”||Robert Henry Newell||
It was a Sergeant old and gray,
For days and nights the winding host
|“Rock of Ages”||Edward H. Rice||
“Such hymns are never forgotten. They cling to us through our whole life. We carry them with us upon our journey. We sing them in the forest. The workman follows the plough with sacred songs. Children catch them, and singing only for the joy it gives them now, are yet laying up for all their...
|“Sad is our youth, for it is ever going”||Aubrey Thomas de Vere||
Sad is our youth, for it is ever going,
|“Said I not so?”||George Herbert||1613||
Said I not so,—that I would sin no more?
What shall I do?—make vows and break them still?
|“Shall I compare thee?”||William Shakespeare||1584||
|“She came and went”||James Russell Lowell||
As a twig trembles, which a bird
As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
|“She died in beauty”||Charles Doyne Sillery||
She died in beauty,—like a rose
She died in beauty,—like a lay