O’er which, to sound their glamouring haze,
A man might bend, and vainly gaze.
Her eyes, twin pools so dark and deep,
In which life’s ancient mysteries sleep;
Wherein, to seek the quested goal,
A man might plunge, and lose his soul.
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‘Twas at early morning,
When in a sweet, embowered gardenShe, the fairest of the goddesses,The lovely Venus,Roamed amongst the roses white and red.She sought for flowersTo make a garlandFor her golden head.Snow-white roses, blood-red roses,In that sweet garden close,Offered incense to the goddess:Both the white and the crimson rose.White roses, red roses, blossoming:But the fair Venus knewThe crimson roses…
W’en de leaves begin to fall,
An’ de ‘simmons is a-ripenin’ on de tree;W’en I heah de dinner call,An’ de chillen gadder ’round,‘Tis den de ‘possum is de meat fu’ me.W’en de wintertime am pas’An’ de spring is come at las’,W’en de good ole summer sun begins to shine;Oh! my thoughts den tek a turn,An’ my heart begins to yearnFo’ dat…
In a backwoods town
And he was a miser old;He would trust no bank,So he dug, and sankIn the ground a box of gold,Down deep in the ground a box of gold.He hid his gold,As has been told,He remembered that he did it;But sad to say,On the very next day,He forgot just where he hid it:To find his gold…
O Lord, we come this morning
Before Thy throne of grace.O Lord–this morning–Bow our hearts beneath our knees,And our knees in some lonesome valley.We come this morning–Like empty pitchers to a full fountain,With no merits of our own.O Lord–open up a window of heaven,And lean out far over the battlements of glory,And listen this morning.Lord, have mercy on proud and dying…
(On an Incident at the Battle of San Juan Hill)
With comrades around him lying,A trooper of the sable TenthLay wounded, bleeding, dying.First in the charge up the fort-crowned hill,His company’s guidon bearing,He had rushed where the leaden hail fell fast,Not death nor danger fearing.He fell in the front where the fight grew fierce,Still faithful in life’s last labor;Black though his skin, yet his heart…
Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,
But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful day —I softly sing.And if the way grows darker still,Shadowed by Sorrow’s somber wing,With glad defiance in my throat,I pierce the darkness with a note,And sing, and sing.I brood not over the broken past,Nor dread whatever time may bring;No nights are dark, no…