IN wretched Times, when Men were given
To mock the Church and spurn at Heaven,
And Pious Saints, like Sinners, sold
Their tender Consciences for Gold,
Nay, even when our Guides could take
Or break an Oath for Int'rest sake,
As if no other God but Mammon,
Was worship'd both...
From a fine lady to her maid,
A Gown descended of brocade.
French!—Yes, from Paris—that's enough,
That wou'd give dignity to fluff.
5 By accident or by design,
Or...
He is stark mad, whoever says,
That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
But that it can ten in less space devour;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year?
...
I sat me down upon a green bank-side,
Skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river,
Whose waters seemed unwillingly to glide,
Like parting friends who linger while they sever;
Enforced to go, yet seeming still unready,
Backward they wind their way in many a wistful eddy.
Gray o'er my head the yellow-...
A little farther on, there is a brook
Where the breeze lingers idly. The high trees
Have roof'd it with their crowding limbs and leaves,
So that the sun drinks not from its sweet fount,
And the shade cools it. You may hear it now,
A low, faint beating, as, upon the leaves
That lie beneath its rapids, it...
Brother of Ingots — Ah Peru —
Empty the Hearts that purchased you —
—
Sister of Ophir —
Ah, Peru —
Subtle the Sum
That purchase you —
—
Brother of Ophir
Bright Adieu,
Honor, the shortest route
To you.
I will accept thy will to do and be,
Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,
Thy will at least to love, that burns within
And thirsteth after Me:
So will I render fruitful, blessing still,
The germs and small beginnings in thy heart,
Because thy will cleaves to the better part.—
...
It lies beyond the Western Pines
Beneath the sinking sun,
And not a survey mark defines,
The bounds of "Brumby's Run".
On odds and ends of mountain land,
On tracks of range and rock
Where no one else can make a stand
Old Brumby rears his stock.
A wild, unhandled lot...
Like the ancient Grecian marbles,
Is his soul with beauty fraught,
And as polished and enduring
Is the sculpture of his thought.
In the Pantheon of our country,
The Valhalla of her fame,
On the record of her poets,
...
Roses ruddy and roses white,
What are the joys that my heart discloses?
Sitting alone in the fading light
Memories come to me here tonight
With the wonderful scent of the big red roses.
Memories come as the daylight fades
Down on the hearth where the firelight dozes;
Flicker and flutter...