Fytte I    By Wood and Wold    [A Preamble] �Beneath the greenwood bough.�    – W. Scott.     Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows,    Though laden with faint perfume,    �Tis the…

   The troubles of life are many,    The pleasures of life are few;    When we sat in the sunlight, Annie,    I dreamt that the skies were blue,    When we sat…

�The hills like giants at a hunting lay    Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay.�    – Browning.     You�ll take my tale with a little salt,    But…

   Oh, gaily sings the bird! and the wattle-boughs are stirr�d    And rustled by the scented breath of spring;    Oh, the dreary wistful longing! Oh, the faces that…

   Rest, and be thankful! On the verge    Of the tall cliff rugged and grey,    But whose granite base the breakers surge,    And shiver their frothy spray,    Outstretched, I gaze…

   Lay me low, my work is done;    I am weary. Lay me low,    Where the wild flowers woo the sun,    Where the balmy breezes blow,    Where the butterfly takes…

   Oh! the sun rose on the lea, and the bird sang merrilie,    And the steed stood ready harness�d in the hall,    And he left his lady�s bower,…

A Shooting-box in the West of Ireland. A Bedchamber.    LAURENCE RABY and MELCHIOR. Night.     Melchior:    Surely in the great beginning God made all things good, and still    That…

Lines written by the late A. L. Gordon    On 4th August, 1853,    Being three days before he sailed for Australia.     Across the trackless seas I go,    No matter…

    Though I have loved you well, I ween,    And you, too, fancied me,    Your heart hath too divided been    A constant heart to be.    And like the gay and…