1.Whither，‘midst falling dew，While glow the heavens with the last steps of day.Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursueThy solitary way？
2.Vainly the fowler’s eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong As，darkly seen against the crimson sky，Thy figure floats along.
3.Seek‘st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake，or marge of river wide，Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side？
4.There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-The desert and illimitable air-Lone wandering，but not lost.
5.All day thy wings have fanned At that far height the cold，thin atmosphere，Yet stoop not weary to the welcome land，Though the dark night is here.
6.And soon that toil shall end：
Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest，And scream among thy fellows；reeds shall bendSoon o’er thy sheltered nest.
7.Thou‘rt gone-the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form；yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given，And shall not soon depart.
8.He who from zone to zone Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight，In the long way that I must tread aloneWill lead my steps aright.
1.Bring flowers，young flowers，for the festal board，To wreathe the cup ere the wine is poured；Bring flowers！they are springing in wood and vale，Their breath floats out on the southern gale，And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose，To deck the hall where the bright wine flows.
2.Bring flowers to strew in the conqueror’s path，He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath！He comes with the spoils of nations back，The vines lie crushed in his chariot‘s track，The turf looks red where he won the day；Bring flowers to die in the conqueror’s way.
3.Bring flowers to the captive‘s lonely cell；They have tales of the joyous woods to tell，Of the free blue streams，and the glowing sky，And the bright world shut from his languid eye；They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours，And a dream of his youth-bring him flowers，wild flowers！
4.Bring flowers，fresh flowers，for the bride to wear！
They were born to blush in her shining hair；She is leaving the home of her childhood’s mirth，She hath bid farewell to her father‘s hearth，Her place is now by another’s side-Bring flowers for the locks of the fair young bride！
5.Bring flowers，pale flowers，o‘er the bier to shed-A crown for the brow of the early dead！
For this through its leaves hath the white rose burst，For this in the woods was the violet nursed；Though they smile in vain for what once was ours，They are love’s last gift-bring ye flowers，pale flowers！
6.Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer；They are nature‘s offering，their place is there！
They speak of hope to the fainting heart，With a voice of promise they come and part；They sleep in dust through the wintry hours，They break forth in glory-bring flowers，bright flowers！
1.Oh，how could Fancy crown with thee In ancient days the god of wine，And bid thee at the banquet be Companion of the vine？
Thy home，wild plant，is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o’er，Where song‘s full notes once pealed around，But now are heard no more.
2The Roman on his battle-plains，Where kings before his eagles bent，Entwined thee with exulting strains Around the victor’s tent；Yet there，though fresh in glossy green Triumphantly thy boughs might way，Better thou lovest the silent scene Around the victor‘s grave.
3.Where sleep the sons of ages flown，The bards and heroes of the past；Where，through the halls of glory gone，Murmurs the wintry blast，Where years are hastening to efface Each record of the grand and fair，-Thou in thy solitary grace，Wreath of the tomb，art there.
4.Oh，many a temple once sublime Beneath a blue Italian sky，Hath nought of beauty left by time Save thy wild tapestry！
And reared ’midst crags and clouds，‘tis thine To wave where banners waved of yore，O’er towers that crest the noble Rhine，Along his rocky shore.
5.High from the fields of air look down Those eyries of a vanished race-Homes of the mighty，whose renownHath passed，and left no trace.But there thou art；thy foliage brightUnchanged the mountain storm can brave-Thou，that wilt climb the loftiest height，Or deck the humblest grave！
6.‘Tis still the same：where’er we tread，The wrecks of human power we see-The marvels of all ages fledLeft to decay and thee！
And still let man his fabrics rear，August，in beauty，grace，and strength；Days pass-thou ivy never sere，And all is thine at length！
1.The day is done，and the darkness Falls from the wings of night，As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.
2.I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist，And a feeling of sadness comes o‘er meThat my soul cannot resist-3.A feeling of sadness and longing That is not akin to pain，And resembles sorrow onlyAs the mist resembles the rain.
4.Come，read to me some poem，Some simple and heartfelt lay，That shall soothe this restless feeling，And banish the thoughts of day.
5.Not from the grand old masters，Not from the bards sublime，Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time.
6.For，like strains of martial music，Their mighty thoughts suggestLife’s endless toil and endeavour；And to-night I long for rest.
7.Read from some humbler poet，Whose songs gushed from his heart，As showers from the clouds of summer，Or tears from the eyelids start；8.Who，through long days of labour，And nights devoid of ease，Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.
9，Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care，And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.
10.Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice，And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice.
11.And the night shall be filled with music，And the cares that infest the dayShall fold their tents，like the Arabs，And as silently steal away.
1.The sky is ruddy in the east，The earth is grey below，And，spectral in the river-mist，The ship‘s white timbers show.
Then let the sounds of measured stroke And grating saw begin-The broad axe to the gnarled oak，The mallet to the pin！
2.Hark！-roars the bellows，blast on blast，The sooty smithy jars，And fire-sparks，rising far and fast，Are fading with the stars.
3.From far-off hills the punting team For us is toiling near；For us the raftsmen down the stream Their island barges steer.
4.Up，up！in nobler toil than ours No craftsmen bear a part：
We make of Nature‘s giant powers The slaves of human art.Lay rib to rib and beam to beam，And drive the tree-nails free；Nor faithless joint nor yawning seam Shall tempt the searching sea.
Where’er her tossing spars shall drip With salt spray caught below，That ship must heed her master‘s beck，Her helm obey his hand，And seamen tread her reeling deck As if they trod the land.
6.Her oaken ribs the vulture-beakOf Northern ice may peel；The sunken rock and coral peakMay grate along her keel；And know we well the painted shell We give to wind and waveMust float，the sailor’s citadel，Or sink，the sailor‘s grave.
7.Ho！strike away the bars and blocks，And set the good ship free；Why lingers on these dusty rocks The young bride of the sea？Look ！how she moves adown the grooves How lowly on the breast she loves Sinks down her virgin prow.
8.God bless her，wheresoe’er the breeze Her snowy wing shall fan，Beside the frozen Hebrides，Or sultry Hindostan；Where‘er，in mart or on the main，With peaceful flag unfurled，She helps to wind the silken chain Of commerce round the world.
9.Speed on the ship ！but let her bear No merchandise of sin，No groaning cargo of despairHer roomy hold within；No Lethean drug for Eastern lands，Nor poison-draught for ours；But honest fruits of toiling handsAnd Nature’s sun and showers.
10.Be hers the prairie‘s golden grain，The desert’s golden sand，The clustered fruits of sunny Spain，The spice of Morning-land！
Her pathway on the open main May blessings follow free，And glad hearts welcome back again Her white sails from the sea！
1.What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells，Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main？-Pale glistening pearls，and rainbow-coloured shells，Bright things which gleam unrecked of and in vain.-Keep，keep thy riches，melancholy Sea！
2.Yet more，the depths have more！What wealth untold，Far down，and shining through their stillness，lies！
Thou hast the starry gems，the burning gold，Won from ten thousand royal argosies，-Sweep o‘er thy spoils，thou wild and wrathful main！
Earth claims not these again！
3.Yet more，the depths have more！Thy waves have rolled Above the cities of a world gone by！
Sea-weed o’ergrown the halls of revelry！-Dash o‘er them，Ocean，in thy scornful play！
Man yields them to decay！
4.Yet more，the billows and the depths have more ！
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast！
They hear not now the booming waters roar；The battle-thunders will not break their rest！-Keep thy red gold and gems，thou stormy grave！
Give back the true and brave！
5.Give back the lost and lovely ！those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long，The prayer went up through midnight’s breathless gloom，And the vain yearning woke ‘midst festal song！
Hold fast thy buried isles，thy towers o’erthrown-But all is not thine own ！
6.To thee the love of woman hath gone down，Dark flow thy tides o‘er manhood’s noble head，O‘er youth’s bright locks and beauty‘s flowery crown；Yet must thou hear a voice-Restore the dead！
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee！-Restore the dead，thou Sea！
1.Paul Revere was a rider bold-Well has his valorous deed been told；Sheridan’s ride was a glorious one-Oft it has been dwelt upon.
On which the love of a patriot feeds？Hearken to me，while I revealThe dashing ride of Jennie Macneal.
2.On a spot as pretty as might be found In the dangerous length of the Neutral Ground，In a cottage，cosy，and all their own，She and her mother lived alone.
Safe were the two，with their frugal store，From all of the many who passed their door；For Jennie‘s mother was strange to fears，And Jennie was tall for fifteen years；With fun her eyes were glistening，Her hair was the hue of the blackbird’s wing.And while the friends who knew her well The sweetness of her heart could tell，A gun that hung on the kitchen wall Looked solemnly quick to heed her call；And they who were evil-minded knewHer nerve was strong and her aim was true.
3.One night，when the sun had crept to bed，And rain-clouds lingered overhead，Soon after a knock at the outer door，There entered a dozen dragoons or more.The captain his hostess bent to greet，Saying，“Madam，please give us a bit to eat；We will pay you well.......Then we must dash ten miles ahead，To catch a rebel colonel abed.He is visiting home，it doth appear；We will make his pleasure cost him dear.”
4.Now，the grey-haired colonel they hovered near Had been Jennie‘s true friend，kind and dear；And oft，in her younger days，had heRight proudly perched her upon his knee.She had hunted by his fatherly side；He had taught her how to fence and ride，And once had said，“The time may be Your skill and courage may stand by me.”
5.With never a thought or a moment more，Bareheaded she slipped from the cottage door；Ran out where the horses were left to feed，Unhitched and mounted the captain’s steed；And down the hilly and rock-strewn wayShe urged the fiery horse of grey.
Around her slender and cloakless form Pattered and moaned the ceaseless storm；Secure and tight a gloveless hand Grasped the reins with stern command；And on she rushed for the colonel‘s weal，Brave，fearless-hearted Jennie Macneal.
6.Hark！from the hills，a moment mute，Came a clatter of hoofs in hot pursuit；And a cry from the foremost trooper said，“Halt，or your blood be on your head！”She heeded it not，and not in vainShe lashed the horse with the bridle-rein.Into the night the grey horse strode，His shoes struck fire from the rocky road，And the high-born courage that never dies Flashed from his rider’s coal-black eyes.The pebbles flew from the fearful race；The rain-drops splashed on her glowing face.“On-on，brave horse！”with loud appeal，Cried eager，resolute Jennie Macneal.
7.“Halt！”once more came that voice of dread-“Halt，or your blood be on your head！”
8.The grey horse did his duty well，Till all at once he stumbled and fell-Himself escaping the nets of harm，But flirting the girl with a broken arm，Still undismayed by the numbing pain，She clung to the horse’s bridle-rein，And gently bidding him to stand，Patted him with her able hand；Then sprang again to the saddle-bow，“Good horse！one more trial now！”
9.As if ashamed of the heedless fall，He gathered his strength once more for all；And galloping down a hillside steep，Gained on the troopers at every leap.
When the girl burst through the colonel‘s door-Her poor arm，helpless，hanging with pain，And she all drabbled and drenched with rain；But her cheeks as red as firebrands are，And her eyes as bright as a blazing star-And shouted，“Quick！be quick，I say！They come！they come！Away！away！”Then fainting on the floor she sank.
10.The startled colonel pressed His wife and children to his breast，And turned away from his fireside bright，And glided into the stormy night；Then soon and safely made his way To where the patriot army lay.
But first he bent in the warm firelight，And kissed the forehead cold and white.
11.The girl roused up at the martial din，Just as the troopers came rushing in；And laughed，even in the midst of a moan，Saying，“Good sirs，your bird has flown.’Twas I who scared him from his nest；So deal with me now as you think best.”......
12.But the gallant young captain bowed，and said，“Of womankind I must crown you queen；So brave a girl I have never seen.
Wear this gold ring as your valour‘s due；And when peace comes，I’ll come for you.”
