Once, on a golden afternoon,
With radiant faces and hearts in tune,
Two fond lovers in dreaming mood
Threaded a rural solitude.
Wholly happy, they only knew
That the earth was bright and the sky was blue,
That light and beauty and joy...
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my...
Two little feet, so small that both may nestle
In one caressing hand,—
Two tender feet upon the untried border
Of life’s mysterious land.
Dimpled, and soft, and pink as peach-tree blossoms,
In April’s fragrant days,
...
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my...
This realm is sacred to the silent past;
Within its drowsy shades are treasures rare
Of dust and dreams; the years are long since last
A stranger’s footfall pressed the creaking stair.
This room no housewife’s tidy hand disturbs;
And here, like...
You who dread the cares and labors
Of the tenant’s annual quest,
You who long for peace and rest,
And the quietest of neighbors,
You may find them, if you will,
In the city on the hill.
One indulgent landlord leases
All the...
My dearling!—thus, in days long fled,
In spite of creed and court and queen,
King Henry wrote to Anne Boleyn,—
The dearest pet name ever said,
And dearly purchased, too, I ween!
Poor child! she played a losing game:
She won a heart,—so...
O lonesome sea-gull, floating far
Over the ocean’s icy waste,
Aimless and wide thy wanderings are,
Forever vainly seeking rest:—
Where is thy mate, and where thy nest?
’Twixt wintry sea and wintry sky,
Cleaving the keen air with thy...
Friend, whose smile has come to be
Very precious unto me,
Though I know I drank not first
Of your love’s bright fountain-burst,
Yet I grieve not for the past,
So you only love me last!
Other souls may find their joy
In the blind love of a boy:
...
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close at last at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,
But...
