HER griefs were the hours
When my struggle was sore,--
Her joys were the powers
That the climber upbore.
...
IN summer dusk the valley lies
With far-flung shadow veil;
A cloud-sea laps the precipice
...
TO skies that were brighter
Turned he his prows;
To gods that were lighter
Made he his vows.
...
With palette laden
She sat, as I passed her,
A dainty maiden
Before an Old Master.
...
'GOOD Heavens, man, what a freak of taste!
What blindness to form and feature!
The girl's no beauty, and might be placed
...
NOW, rallying once if ne'er again,
With flag at half-mast flown,
A people in dire need and strain
Mans Tyra's bastion. ...
...
THE last, late guest
To the gate we followed;
Goodbye -- and the rest
The night-wind swallowed.
...
Beetling rock, with roar and smoke
Break before my hammer-stroke!
Deeper I must thrust and lower
Till I hear the ring of ore.
...
SEE, dear, what thy lover brings;
'Tis the flower with the white wings.
Buoyed upon the quiet stream
In the spring it lay adream.
...
NOW they sing the hero loud; --
But they sing him in his shroud.
...