William Wetmore Story Poems

HERE, Charmian, take my bracelets:
They bar with a purple stain
My arms; turn over my pillows—
They are hot where I have lain:
...

I SING the hymn of the conquered, who fell in the Battle of Life,—
The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed in the strife;
...

A THOUSAND silent years ago,
The twilight faint and pale
Was drawing o’er the sunset glow
Its soft and shadowy veil;
...

O faint, delicious, spring-time violet!
Thine odor, like a key,
Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let
A thought of sorrow free.
...