Here, as the restless winds pass over, A callow stranger beside the rest! And the snake slips by and leaves a trail, Like to the wind in the meadow grass. Into the sweet September weather, Scarlet-cheeked in the Autumn heat. Breaking in through the thorny hedges, Under the lovely, distant stars, THE END. INDEX OF FIRST LINES. Aboard at a ship's helm, 115 A chapel by the wayside, 299 Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever! 52 A land-bird would follow a sea-bird's flight, 287 Amid these days of order, ease, prosperity, 113 A song, a poem of itself—the word itself a dirge, 114 A wolf-like stream without a sound, 267 Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! 213 Back from the trebly crimsoned field, 202 Bells of the past, whose long-forgotten music, 257 'Corporal Green!" the Orderly cried ; 208 Delicate cluster! flag of teeming life! 113 Give all to love; 44 Here, friend! upon this lofty ledge sit down! 252 Her hands were clasped downward and doubled, 265 His soul wrought long and wore the flesh away, 274 How did he live, this dead man here, 276 I met the wild-eyed Genius of our land, 168 In their ragged regimentals, 180 In the old days of awe and keen-eyed wonder, 82 I saw him once before, 98 I saw old General at bay, 112 I saw thee once-once only-years ago, 53 I stood within the little cove, 244 It cannot be that men who are the seed, 291 It was three slim does and a ten-tined buck in the bracken lay; 126 Life is a count of losses, 163 Little dancing harlequin ! 238 Look down into my heart, 231 Lo, the unbounded sea, 110 Men! if manhood still ye claim, 33 Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : 188 Mother, if I were a flower, 236 My life is like a stroll upon the beach, 176 Not what we would, but what we must, 233 Not youth pertains to me, 112 O brotherhood, with bay-crowned brows undaunted, 293 Often I think of the beautiful town, 73 Oh fairest of the rural maids! 17 Oh, Love is not a summer mood, 279 'Oh tell me, sailor, tell me true, 228 One day, along the electric wire, 35 O peerless shore of peerless sea, 255 Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away ! 195 Out of the hills of Habersham, 132 Rally round the flag, boys, 190 Index of First Lines. Recorders ages hence, III See, from this counterfeit of him, 225 305 She comes-the spirit of the dance! 166 Shines the last age, the next with hope is seen, 46 Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging, 109 unreturn'd love, IIO Sound! sound! sound! 264 Southrons, hear your country call you! 192 Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs, II Strike hands, young men ! 281 The despot's heel is on thy shore, 198 The German tyrant plays thee for his game; 291 The grass is greener where she sleeps, 242 The happy bells shall ring, 240 The kind of a man for you and me ! 285 'The little gate was reached at last, 89 The orchard lands of Long Ago! 284 The Puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church; 292 The rain is playing its soft, pleasant tune, 158 There is a sighing in the wood, 58 There was a young man in Boston town, 100 The robin laughed in the orange-tree: 134 The Royal feast was done; the King, 259 The sun set, but set not his hope; 45 The time has been that these wild solitudes, 13 The wind is awake, little leaves, little leaves, 272 The wind is roistering out of doors, 88 They bade me cast the thing away, 256 This ancient silver bowl of mine, it tells of good old times, 95 This little rill that, from the springs, 20 Through dewy glades ere morn is high, 295 Thought is deeper than all speech, 219 To him who in the love of nature holds, 7 Traveller! on thy journey toiling, 29 Tuscan, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, 88 Voices from the mountain speak; 18 We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more, 204 We were not many-we who stood, 161 "What care I, what cares he, 183 What think you I take my pen in hand to record? 110 "Where is a singer to cheer me?" 221 While I recline, 246 Whither, 'midst falling dew, 12 Who did it, Fall wind, sighing, 273 Who has not heard of the dauntless Varuna? 206 "Whose work is this?" Murillo said, 171 Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks; 143 With incense and myrrh and sweet spices, 263 Woodman, spare that tree! 155 |