The Song of the Camp, by Bayard Taylor
“ GIVE us a song!” the soldiers cri...
“ GIVE us a song!” the soldiers cri...
Bedeviled by grin Satanic,
Hiding human heart...
Our parents long have passed away,
All old fa...
I rose without trace till the surface
ripped i...
I and the Loves Adonis dead deplore;
The beau...
I Looking seaward, o'er the sand-hills stands...
Is it the beauty of the flower,
Its honeyed s...
On fancy's wing, in slumber's regions borne,
...
From whence the rapture which I feel
Through a...
Oh love's sweet enchantment is common,
It rul...
Hail thou unfledged! Thou nestling of an hour!
...
The rose--the rose of matchless grace!
That be...
Ye beauteous lips! Ye fair but wily twins!
Par...
Here are violets, beautiful violets!
All brig...
Ask me where beauty is, I'll say
'Tis in swee...
My fancy's queen, the muse, one day,
Presse...
Oh happy youth! Season of life most lovely!
Fa...
What force, what sudden impulse thus can make
...
The basket swift-descending from the skies,
T...
O when, my soul, wilt thou resound the praise...
Tho' great Apollo claim the poet's lyre,
Yet ...
All day through the cloven mountains
Up a mira...
The little common people
Are laughing in the s...
O ye who dwell beneath the temperate sun,
And...
Strange words for man! Through all we dream and...