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 breast,
Thou sailest slowly, solemnly;
No fetter on thy wing is pressed:—
...
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 Henry said,—
But ah, the price she gave instead!
Men’s hearts, at best, are but a...
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 pleasant dwellings there;
He has tenants everywhere,—
Every day the throng increases;...
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 some strange presence, ever clings
A homesick smell of dry forgotten herbs,—
A musty...
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 hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to...
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,
How can they walk among the briery tangles,
Edging the world’s rough ways?
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 hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to...
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 and song
Charmed the way as they passed along:
The air was fragrant with woodland...
