Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness.

There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the t…

A sight to dream of, not to tell!

Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, Hath a toothless mastiff bitch.

Yosemite Park is a place of rest, a refuge from the roar and dust and weary, nervous, wasting work of the lowlands, in which one gains the advantages of both s…

Oh, the moon is fair tonight along the Wabash, From the fields there comes the breath of new-mown hay; Through the sycamores the candle lights are gleaming On …

I now leave that bed which has afforded me little rest, and eagerly seek repose in the quiet enjoyments of rural life.