There stood an unsold captive in the mart,
A gray-haired and majestical old man,
Chained to a pillar. It was almost night,
And the last seller from the place had gone,
And not a sound was heard but of a dog
Crunching beneath the stall a refuse bone,
Or the dull echo from the pavement rung.
As the faint captive changed his weary feet....
-
-
The shadows lay along Broadway,
’T was near the twilight-tide,
And slowly there a lady fair
Was walking in her pride.
Alone walked she; but, viewlessly,
Walked spirits at her side.Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,
And Honor charmed the air;
And all astir looked kind on her,
And called her good as fair... -
There ’s something in a noble boy,
A brave, free-hearted, careless one,
With his unchecked, unbidden joy,
His dread of books and love of fun—
And in his clear and ready smile,
Unshaded by a thought of guile,
And unrepressed by sadness—
Which brings me to my childhood back,
As if I trod its very track,
And felt its... -
When the rose is brightest,
Its bloom will soonest die;
When burns the meteor brightest,
’T will vanish from the sky.
If Death but wait until delight
O’errun the heart like wine,
And break the cup when brimming quite,
I die—for thou hast poured to-night
The last drop into mine. -
Love knoweth every form of air,
And every shape of earth,
And comes, unbidden, everywhere,
Like thought’s mysterious birth.
The moonlit sea and the sunset sky
Are written with Love’s words,
And you hear his voice unceasingly,
Like song, in the time of birds.He peeps into the warrior’s heart
From the tip of a... -
The Shadows lay along Broadway,
’T was near the twilight-tide,
And slowly there a lady fair
Was walking in her pride.
Alone walked she; but, viewlessly,
Walked spirits at her side.Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,
And Honor charmed the air;
And all astir looked kind on her,
And called her good as fair... -
On the cross-beam under the Old South bell
The nest of a pigeon is builded well.
In summer and winter that bird is there,
Out and in with the morning air;
I love to see him track the street,
With his wary eye and active feet;
And I often watch him as he springs,
Circling the steeple with easy wings,
Till across the dial his shade... -
“ROOM for the leper! room!” And as he came
The cry passed on,—“Room for the leper! room!”* * * * *
And aside they stood,
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood,—all
Who met him on his way,—and let him pass.
And onward through the open gate he came,
A leper with the ashes on his brow,
...