Poems

At night when stars shine bright and clear, The soft winds on the casements blow, And round the chamber rustle low, Like one unseen, whose voice we hear, On tiptoe stealing to a...

Well, well! and so ye deem I love her not, Ye and the world that love so passing well?-- That still I trifle with her bright young life, As the wind plays with some frail water-...

Not love her! O my God! thou knowest me-- Thou, looking through me as the sun at noon That searches through the being of the world-- Thou setting life against thy glory light, A...