Tall, sombre, grim, against the morning sky
  They rise, scarce touched by melancholy airs,
Which stir the fadeless foliage dreamfully,
  As if from realms of mystical despairs.

Tall, sombre, grim, they stand with dusky gleams
  Brightening to gold...

For sixty days and upwards,
  A storm of shell and shot
Rained round us in a flaming shower,
  But still we faltered not.
“If the noble city perish,”
  Our grand young leader said,
“Let the only walls the foe shall scale
  Be ramparts of...

Between the sunken sun and the new moon,
I stood in fields through which a rivulet ran
With scarce perceptible motion, not a span
Of its smooth surface trembling to the tune
Of sunset breezes: “O delicious boon,”
I cried, “of quiet! wise is Nature’s plan,...

I see the cloud-born squadrons of the gale,
  Their lines of rain like glittering spears deprest,
While all the affrighted land grows darkly pale
  In flashing charge on earth’s half-shielded breast.

Sounds like the rush of trampling columns float
  From...

She ’s loveliest of the festal throng
  In delicate form and Grecian face,—
A beautiful, incarnate song,
  A marvel of harmonious grace,
And yet I know the truth I speak:
  From those gay groups she stands apart,
A rose upon her tender cheek,...

A little while (my life is almost set!)
  I fain would pause along the downward way,
  Musing an hour in this sad sunset-ray,
While, Sweet! our eyes with tender tears are wet:
A little hour I fain would linger yet.

A little while I fain would linger yet...

I think it is over, over,
  I think it is over at last:
Voices of foemen and lover,
The sweet and the bitter have passed:
Life, like a tempest of ocean
Hath outblown its ultimate blast:
There ’s but a faint sobbing seaward
While the calm of...

From “The Mountain of the Lovers”
LOVE scorns degrees; the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
Two loving hearts may meet, nor meet in vain;
’Gainst such sweet levelling Custom cries amain,...

I Think it is over, over,
  I think it is over at last:
Voices of foemen and lover,
The sweet and the bitter, have passed:
Life, like a tempest of ocean
Hath outblown its ultimate blast:
There ’s but a faint sobbing seaward
While the calm...

She hath no beauty in her face
  Unless the chastened sweetness there,
And meek long-suffering, yield a grace
  To make her mournful features fair:—

Shunned by the gay, the proud, the young,
  She roams through dim, unsheltered ways;
Nor lover’s...