The Butterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s Feasts Excited the spleen of the Birds and the Beasts: For their mirth and good cheer—of the Bee was the theme, And the Gnat blew his horn, as he danced in the beam; ’Twas humm’d by the Beetle, ’twas buzz’d by the Fly, And sung by the myriads that sport through the sky. The Quadrupeds listen’d with sullen displeasure, But the tenants of Air were... more...

YE votaries of Fashion, who have it to boast, That your names to posterity will not be lost; That the last Morning Chronicle due honor paid To the still-blooming Dowager’s gay Masquerade; That the Minister’s Dinner has blaz’d in the Times, That the Countess’s Gala has jingled in rhymes; Oh! tell me, who would not endeavour to please, And exert ev’ry nerve, for rewards such as these? [p6] It was early in... more...

THICK-SPRINKLED BUNTING Thick-sprinkled bunting! flag of stars!Long yet your road, fateful flag—long yet your road, and lined with bloody death,For the prize I see at issue at last is the world,All its ships and shores I see interwoven with your threads greedy banner;Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne, to flaunt unrival'd?O hasten flag of man—O with sure and steady step, passing highest flags of kings,Walk supreme to the... more...

THE OLD HANGING FORK. I. O don't you remember those days so divine,Around which the heart-strings all tenderly twine,When with sapling pole and a painted corkWe fished up and down the old Hanging Fork—From the railroad bridge, with its single span,Clear down to the mill at Dawson's old dam—From early morn till the shades of night,And it made no difference if fish didn't bite? II. What pleasure it gives to think and to dreamOf... more...

THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. I love it, I love it; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? I've cherished it long as a sainted prize; I've bedewed it with tears and embalmed it with sighs 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would ye learn the spell?—a mother sat there: And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair. In childhood's hour I lingered near The hallowed... more...

THE NUTS OF KNOWLEDGE A cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nookWhere door and windows open wide that friendly stars may look.The rabbit shy can patter in, the winds may enter free,Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy. And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air,I think the sacred Hazel Tree is dropping berries thereFrom starry fruitage waved aloft where Connla's Well o'erflows;For sure the enchanted... more...

ES, she has grown old, And has caught a bad cold, Only bread and milk she touches, Except a little gruel, but she burns a greatdeal of fuel, and you may count,One, Two, Three, a great many times,while she hobbles across the room on hercrutches.         NOW many Lives has the Cat got? NONE! Is it true then, as they said, That poor old Puss is dead, So many lives as she’d got?... more...

The Night Before Christmas.   'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's... more...

Celia was laughing. Hopefully I said: “How shall this beauty that we share, This love, remain aware Beyond our happy breathing of the air? How shall it be fulfilled and perfected?... If you were dead, How then should I be comforted?” But Celia knew instead: “He who finds beauty here, shall find it there.” A halo gathered round her hair. I looked and saw her wisdom bare The living bosom of the countless dead.... more...

I. STEADFAST as any soldier of the line He served his England, with the imminent death Poised at his heart. Nor could the world divine The constant peril of each burdened breath. England, and the honour of England, he still served Walking the strict path, with the old high pride Of those invincible knights who never swerved One hair's breadth from the way until they died. Quietness he loved, and books, and the grave beauty Of... more...