In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded
I stand again on the familiar shore, And hear the waves of the distracted sea Piteously calling an
I heard the bells on Christmas day Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words r
It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that
'A soldier of the Union mustered out,' Is the inscription on an unknown grave At Newport News, bes
Black shadows fall From the lindens tall, That lift aloft their massive wall Against the southern
Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his buccaneers; He has singed the beard o
I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the si
The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through cloud
I know a maiden fair to see, Take care! She can both false and friendly be, Beware! Beware!
I am poor and old and blind; The sun burns me, and the wind Blows through the city gate And cover
A fleet with flags arrayed Sailed from the port of Brest, And the Admiral's ship displayed The si
I leave you, ye cold mountain chains, Dwelling of warriors stark and frore! You, may these eyes
I said unto myself, if I were dead, What would befall these children? What would be Their fate, wh
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers,
Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter
O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but play; Whereon it is enough for me, N
On sunny slope and beechen swell, The shadowed light of evening fell; And, where the maple's leaf
Come to me, O ye children! For I hear you at your play, And the questions that perplexed me Have
This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But front
Allah gives light in darkness, Allah gives rest in pain, Cheeks that are white with weeping Al
The sun is set; and in his latest beams Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold, Slowly upon the a
When the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 'T is sweet to visit the
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, Of the happy days that followed, In the land of the Ojibways, In the pl
St. Botolph's Town! Hither across the plains And fens of Lincolnshire, in garb austere, There came
I have read, in some old, marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of
When the summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flown, And the dry leaves strew
Sweet the memory is to me Of a land beyond the sea, Where the waves and mountains meet, Where ami
On the green little isle of Inchkenneth, Who is it that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highla
As the dim twilight shrouds The mountain's purple crest, And Summer's white and folded clouds Are