As doth his heart who travels far from home
Leap up whenever he by chance doth see
One from his mother-country lately come,
Friend from my home—thus do I welcome thee.
Thou art so late arrived that I the tale
Of thy high lineage on thy brow can trace,
And almost feel the breath of that soft gale
That wafted thee unto this desert place,...
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A pilgrim am I, on my way
To seek and find the Holy Land;
Scarce had I started, when there lay
And marched round me a fourfold band:
A smiling Joy, a weeping Woe,
A Hope, a Fear, did with me go;
And one may come, or one be gone;
But I am never more alone.My little Hope, she pines and droops,
And... -
I do not own an inch of land,
But all I see is mine,—
The orchard and the mowing-fields,
The lawns and gardens fine.
The winds my tax-collectors are,
They bring me tithes divine,—
Wild scents and subtle essences,
A tribute rare and free;
And, more magnificent than all,
My window keeps for me
A glimpse of... -
’t is but a little faded flower,
But oh, how fondly dear!
’T will bring me back one golden hour,
Through many a weary year.
I may not to the world impart
The secret of its power,
But treasured in my inmost heart,
I keep my faded flower.Where is the heart that doth not keep,
Within its inmost core,
Some... -
What are the long waves singing so mournfully evermore?
...
What are they singing so mournfully as they weep on the sandy shore?
“Olivia, oh, Olivia!”—what else can it seem to be?
“Olivia, lost Olivia, will never return to thee!”
“Olivia, lost Olivia!”—what else can the sad song be?—
“Weep and mourn, she will not return,—she cannot return, to thee!” -
It was Christmas Eve in the year fourteen,
And, as ancient dalesmen used to tell,
The wildest winter they ever had seen,
With the snow lying deep on moor and fell,When Wagoner John got out his team,
Smiler and Whitefoot, Duke and Gray,
With the light in his eyes of a young man’s dream,
As he thought of his wedding on New Year’s Day... -
The weather-leech of the topsail shivers,
The bowlines strain, and the lee-shrouds slacken,
The braces are taut, the lithe boom quivers,
And the waves with the coming squall-cloud blacken.Open one point on the weather-bow,
Is the light-house tall on Fire Island Head.
There ’s a shade of doubt on the captain’s brow,
And the... -
I am dying, Egypt, dying!
Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows
Gather on the evening blast;
Let thine arm, O Queen, enfold me,
Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear,
Listen to the great heart secrets
Thou, and thou alone, must hear.Though my scarred and veteran legions
Bear their eagles... -
“ho, there! Fisherman, hold your hand!
Tell me, what is that far away,—
There, where over the isle of sand
Hangs the mist-cloud sullen and gray?
See! it rocks with a ghastly life,
Rising and rolling through clouds of spray,
Right in the midst of the breakers’ strife,—
Tell me what is it, Fisherman, pray?”“That, good sir...
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The scarlet tide of summer’s life
Is ebbing toward a shoreless sea;
Late fell before the reaper’s knife
The ripened grain—a type of thee.How fresh and young the earth looked, when
The sun first kissed thy silken head!
Now blazing grass and smouldering fen
Burn incense for an empress dead.With gorgeous robes she lies...