(Volume IV)

Prince thou art,—the grown up man Only is republican. —Page 3.

O’er me, like a regal tent, Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, Looped in many a wind-swung fold. —Page 6.

Now in memory comes my mother, As she was long years agone, To regard the darling dreamers Ere she left them till the dawn. —Page 8.

I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. —Page 60.

For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. —Page 61.

And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. —Page 86.

Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes may be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought. —Page 88.

And when the arrows of sunset Lodged in the tree-tops bright, He fell, in his saint-like beauty, Asleep by the gates of light. —Page 129.

Save me alike from foolish pride, Or impious discontent, Or aught thy wisdom has denied, Or aught thy goodness lent. —Page 173.

And there through the flash of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pass as with eagle flight. —Page 224.

Noiselessly as the springtime Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves. —Page 267.

Who dies in youth and vigor, dies the best, Struck through with wounds, all honest, on the breast. —Page 369.