- In the busy haunts of men.
- "Tale of the Secret Tribunal" (published 1822), part i, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
- Calm on the bosom of thy God,
Fair spirit, rest thee now!
- The Siege of Valencia (1823), scene ix, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
- I have looked on the hills of the stormy North,
And the larch has hung his tassels forth.
- The Voice of Spring (published 1835), reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
- But fair the exil'd Palm-tree grew
Midst foliage of no kindred hue;
Through the laburnum’s dropping gold
Rose the light shaft of Orient mould,
And Europe’s violets, faintly sweet,
Purpled the mossbeds at its feet.
- They grew in beauty side by side,
They filled one home with glee:
Their graves are severed far and wide
By mount and stream and sea.
- Alas for love, if thou wert all,
And naught beyond, O Earth!
- The Graves of a Household, st. 8.
- The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
- The flames roll'd on-he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
- The stately Homes of England,
How beautiful they stand!
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O'er all the pleasant land.
- Oh, call my brother back to me!
I cannot play alone:
The summer comes with flower and bee,—
Where is my brother gone?
- The Child's First Grief (1828).
- Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north-wind’s breath,
And stars to set; but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
- Come to the sunset tree!
The day is past and gone;
The woodman’s axe lies free,
And the reaper’s work is done.
- Tyrolese Evening Song, st. 1.
- I had a hat. It was not all a hat,—
Part of the brim was gone:
Yet still I wore it on.
- Rhine Song of the German Soldiers after Victory.
- The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed.
- And the heavy night hung dark,
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
- What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine,
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine.
- Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod;
They have left unstained what there they found —
Freedom to whorship God.