THE LAST LEAF OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES SAW him once before, As he passed by the door, The pavement stones resound, They say that in his prime, Not a better man was found But now he walks the streets, Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone." And the names he loved to hear My grandmamma has said— That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, OLD IRONSIDES OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES Y, tear her tattered ensign down! Beneath it rung the battle shout, The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more! Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, No more shall feel the victor's tread, O better that her shattered hulk Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms, TO THE HUMMING-BIRD JONES VERY CANNOT heal thy green gold breast, Where deep those cruel teeth have prest, Nor bid thee raise thy ruffled crest, And seek thy mate, Who sits alone within thy nest, No more with him in summer hours Nor seek, when evening darkly lowers, No more thou'lt know a mother's care Their path through fields of sunny air, For thy return in vain shall wait Thy tender young, thy fond, fond mate, Till night's last stars beam forth full late. On their sad eyes; Unknown, alas! thy cruel fate, Unheard thy cries! THE BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST W JAMES T. FIELDS E were crowded in the cabin, It was midnight on the waters, 'Tis a fearful thing in winter So we shuddered there in silence, - As thus we sat in darkness, Each one busy with his prayers, But his little daughter whispered, Then we kissed the little maiden, |