Arthur Weir

Sleep, dearest, sleep beside the murmuring sea;
Sleep, dearest, sleep, and bright dreams compass thee.
...

You love the sun and the languid breeze
That gently kisses the rosebud's lips,
And delight to see
How the dainty bee,
...

'What do you gather?' the maiden said,
Shaking her sunlit curls at me--
'See, these flowers I plucked are dead,
Ah! misery.'
...

He sits amid the ceaseless ebb and flow
Of human life, in multitudes alone,
And listens to their ceaseless monotone.
...

The daughter of a hundred earls,
No jewels has with mine to mate,
Though she may wear in flawless pearls
The ransom of a mighty state.
...

There is a spot, far from the world's uproar,
Amid great mountains,
Where softly sleeps a lake, to whose still shore
Steal silvery fountains,
...

Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo!
Gather, gather, ye men in white;
The winds blow keenly, the moon is bright,
...

In Egypt Rhodope was born,
And lived afar from king and court;
No jewels did the maid adorn;
She crowned herself with flowers in sport.
...

Memory gleams like a gem at night
Through the gloom of to-day for me,
Bringing dreams of a summer bright
...

Sweet is the maiden's kiss that tells
The secret of her heart;
Holy the wife's--yet in them dwells
Of earthliness a part;
...

Baby sits upon the floor,
Baby's scarce a twelvemonth old;
Baby laughs, and _goo-goos_ o'er
Memories how a babe of yore
...

King Winter sleeps. His daughter, Spring,
His sceptre steals away,
And, laughing, bids fair Nature bring
For once a perfect day.
...

Poor, lone Carlotta, Mexico's mad Queen,
Babbling of him, amid thy vacant halls,
Whose ears have long been heedless of thy calls;
...

Would that with the bold Champlain,
And his comrades staunch and true,
I had crossed the stormy main,
Golden visions to pursue:
...

So he is dead. A strange, sad story clings
About the memory of this mindless man;
A tale that strips war's tinsel off, and brings
...

We are scarcely one to seven,
But our cause is just;
Help us in our trial, heaven!
Keep the ford we must.
...

Mad fools! To think that men can be
Made equal all, when God
Made one well nigh divinity
And one a soulless clod.
...

'Silent I have stood and borne it, hoping still from year to year
That the pleading voice of justice you would some day wake to hear.
...

I

_Sailor William is dead. And now
Toll the great bells disconsolate.
...

He had been with the Indians all the day,
But sat with us at eve,
Chatting and laughing in his genial way,
Till came the hour to leave;
...