ARE YOU A BROMIDE? The terms "Bromide" and "Sulphite" as applied to psychological rather than chemical analysis have already become, among the illuminati, so widely adopted that these denominations now stand in considerable danger of being weakened in significance through a too careless use. The adjective "bromidic" is at present adopted as a general vehicle, a common carrier... more...

CHAPTER I. THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. It was a beautiful evening at the close of a warm, luscious day in old Spain. It was such an evening as one would select for trysting purposes. The honeysuckle gave out the sweet announcement of its arrival on the summer breeze, and the bulbul sang in the dark vistas of olive-trees,—sang of his love and his hope, and of the victory he anticipated in the... more...

THE NEW FABLE OF THE PRIVATE AGITATOR AND WHAT HE COOKED UP Ambition came, with Sterling Silver Breast-Plate and Flaming Sword, and sat beside a Tad aged 5. The wee Hopeful lived in a Frame House with Box Pillars in front and Hollyhocks leading down toward the Pike. "Whither shall I guide you?" asked Ambition. "Are you far enough from the Shell to have any definite Hankering?" "I... more...

INTRODUCTION Of the making of books by individual authors there is no end; but a cultivated literary taste among the exceptional few has rendered almost impossible the production of genuine folk-songs. The spectacle, therefore, of a homogeneous throng of partly civilized people dancing to the music of crude instruments and evolving out of dance-rhythm a lyrical or narrative utterance in poetic form is... more...

LONGFELLOW'S POEMS IN PROSE he home of the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, during the greater part of his life was in the picturesque town of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and there many of his best known poems were written. The forge of the Village Blacksmith really stood there beneath the shelter of a "spreading chestnut tree," in Cambridge, and when, as the town grew larger, the... more...

To M AE C E N A S.   MAECENAS, you, beneath the myrtle shade,  Read o'er what poets sung, and shepherds play'd.  What felt those poets but you feel the same?  Does not your soul possess the sacred flame?  Their noble strains your equal genius shares  In softer language, and diviner airs.    While Homer paints, lo! circumfus'd in air,  Celestial Gods in mortal forms... more...

The Path to HomeThere's the mother at the doorway, and the children at the gate,And the little parlor windows with the curtains white and straight.There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.Oh, there isn't any mansion underneath God's starry domeThat can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called... more...

Bread Poems   Lullaby  Embarkation of Cythera  Christian Luxuries  Narrow Flowers  Eyes  After Youth  The Shadow that Walks Alone  Bible Truth  The Maternal Breast  Air for G String  Destiny The Red Cross   Hectic I-II  Isolation Ward  The Red Cross  Hospital Night Domestic Canticle   Spring Song  Home Again  To a Sick Child  Love Song  Quarrel  My Child  The... more...

MAURINE PART I.I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:The climbing rose‑tree grew about me there,And checked with shade the sunny porticoWhere, morns like this, I came to read, or sew. I heard the gate click, and a firm quick treadUpon the walk. No need to turn my head;I would... more...

The Pasture I'M going out to clean the pasture spring;I'll only stop to rake the leaves away(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.I'm going out to fetch the little calfThat's standing by the mother. It's so young,It totters when she licks it with her tongue.I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too. SOMETHING there is... more...