Ho! city of the gay!
Paris! what festal rite
Doth call thy thronging million forth,
All eager for the sight?
Thy soldiers line the streets
In fixed and stern array,
With buckled helm and bayonet,
As on the battle-day.
By square, and fountain side,
Heads in dense masses rise,
And tower and battlement and...
A BUTTERFLY bask'd on a baby's grave,
Where a lily had chanced to grow:
"Why art thou here, with thy gaudy die,
When she of the blue and sparkling eye,
Must sleep in the church-yard low?"
Then it lightly soar'd through the sunny air,
And spoke from its shining track:
...
1 GOD of the year! with songs of praise
And hearts of love, we come to bless
Thy bounteous hand, for thou hast shed
Thy manna o'er our wilderness.
2 In early spring-time thou didst fling
O'er earth its robe of blossoming;
And its sweet treasures, day by day,
Rose...
SLEEP, dearest, long and sweet,
With smile upon thy brow,
Thy restless, tottering feet,
Are surely weary now,
Trotting about all day
Upon the nursery-floor,
Or happier still to play
Among the wild flowers gay
Beside thy father's door.
...
I came, but she was gone. In her fair home,
There lay her lute, just as she touched it last,
At summer twilight, when the woodbine cups
Fill'd with pure fragrance. On her favourite seat
Lay the still open work-box, and that book
Which last she read, its pencil'd margin...
