Down by the brook he bends his steps, | Two golden stars, like tokens from the
A lowly wicket; and at last he stands
Awful beside the bed of one who grew From boyhood with him, - who with lifted hands
And eyes seems listening to far welcomings And sweeter music-than the Blackbird sings.
Remember us poor Mayers all!
Ring, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath
bells!...
Saith the white owl to the martin folk
See, from this counterfeit of him..
Send down thy wingéd angel, God!..
Serene, I fold my hands and wait...
Shall I tell you whom I love?.
She doth tell me where to borrow.
"She is dead!" they said to him.
away".
She's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie
She smiles and smiles, and will not sigh. 266
She stood alone amidst the April fields....
She stood breast high amid the corn
She stood in the harvest-field at noon..
She walks in beauty, like the night
She was a phantom of delight.
She wearies with an ill unknown.
Silent nymph, with curious eye!..
Sitting all day in a silver mist
Slave of the dark and dirty mine!..
Slayer of winter, art thou here again?.
Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed.
Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares
Slowly, by God's hand unfurled...
Snow was glistening on the mountains, but
the air was that of June...
The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep
The day was dark, save when the beam
The fairest action of our human life.
The frugal snail, with forecast of repose... 120
The glories of our blood and state..
The golden sea its mirror spreads..
The Lord my pasture shall prepare
The midges dance aboon the burn
The melancholy days are come, the saddest
of the year.
The music-lesson of Koung-tseu the wise...
The night is come; like to the day...
The night was dark, though sometimes a
faint star.....
327
90
297 The pilgrim and stranger, who, through the
The night was made for cooling shade..... 287
54 The old mayor climbed the belfry tower. 280
The perfect sight of duty; thought which
moulds
The rain has ceased, and in my room......
The rain is o'er. How dense and bright
There are gains for all our losses..
So sweet, so sweet the roses in their blow-
ing
There are in this loud stunning tide.
There is a land of pure delight...
Spring, with that nameless pathos in the
air
There is no flock, however watched and
tended
Still sits the school-house by the road
Still to be neat, still to be drest..
Strike the loved harp; let the prelude be..
Success had made him more than king..
Sure, to the mansions of the blest
Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright
The salt wind blows upon my cheek.
The sea is calling, calling.
Sweetest of all childlike dreams
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er 40
These, as they change, Almighty Father,
The bard has sung, God never formed a
soul....
The birds, when winter shades the sky.... 165 They are all gone into the world of light.. 33
The wind ahead, the billows high.
The winds that once the Argo bore.
The wind was whispering to the vines.
The word of the Lord by night...
The world is too much with us; late and