Let the old snow be covered with the new:
The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
A trusting little leaf of green,
A bold audacious frost;
A rendezvous, a kiss or two,
Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;
A song I sang, full many a year ago,
Smiled up at me, a
Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,
That you were married, or soon to be.
I have not thought o
The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown aw
Not we who daily walk the City's street;
Not those who have been cradled in its heart,
Ho! ho! Father Death! I have won you another!
Another grand soul I have ruined and taken;
I, who a
As we hurry away to the end, my friend,
Of this sad little farce called existence,
We are sure t
We plucked a red rose, you and I
All in the summer weather;
Sweet its perfume and rare its bloom,
Today I had a burial of my dead.
There was no shroud, no coffin, and no pall,
No prayers were ut
I must do as you do? Your way I own
Is a very good way, and still,
There are sometimes two strai
So vast the tide of Love within me surging,
It overflows like some stupendous sea,
The band was playing a waltz-quadrille,
I felt as light as a wind-blown feather,
As we floated a
Some cawing Crows, a hooting Owl,
A Hawk, a Canary, an old Marsh-Fowl,
One day all meet together
The house is like a garden,
The children are the flowers,
The gardener should come met
He said he loved me! Then he called my hair
Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid strings his bow,
My soul is like a poor caged bird to-night,
Beating its wings against the prison bars,
Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,
It is wise and k
I have written this day down in my heart
As the sweetest day in the season;
From all of the othe
The sweet young Spring walks over the earth,
It flushes and glows on moor and lea;
The birds are s
As I go and shop, sir!
If a car I stop, sir!
Where you chance to sit,
And you want to read, si
We will be what we could be. Do not say,
"It might have been, had not this, or that, or this."
I strolled last eve across the lonely down;
One solitary picture struck my eye:
A distant ploughbo
I poured out a tumbler of Claret,
Of course with intention to drink,
And, holding it up in the sun
'What's in a glass of wine?'
There, set the glass where I can look within.
Now listen to me, frien
Well, Mabel, 'tis over and ended---
The ball I wrote was to be;
And oh! it was perfectly splendi
One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand
To tired little May.
'Come, go with me to Wonderland,'
A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,
And leaped like a steed o’er the race track blue,
As the ambitious sculptor, tireless, lifts
Chisel and hammer to the block at hand,
Before my half-
I knew that a baby was hid in that house,
Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry;
But the husba