Bret Harte

“ There's nothing so hard that the bird will discard,
⁠And nothing its taste will eschew
⁠That you
⁠Can give that long-legged Emeu!
The time slipped away, in this innocent play,
⁠When up jumped the bold Montague:
"Where's that specimen pin that I gaily did win
⁠In raffle, and gave unto you,
⁠Fortescue?"
⁠No word spoke the guilty Emeu!
"Quick! tell me his name whom thou gavest that same,
⁠Ere these hands in thy blood I imbrue!"
"Nay, dearest," she cried, as she clung to his side,
⁠"I'm innocent as that Emeu!"
⁠"Adieu!"
⁠He replied, "Miss M. H. Fortescue!" ”

“ In the gloom of the mountain a ship lies at rest,
⁠And one sails away from the lea;
One spreads its white wings on a far-reaching track,
⁠With pennant and sheet flowing free;
One hides in the shadow with sails laid aback—
⁠The ship that is waiting for me! ”

“ No more the home where joy and wealth repose,
But now where wassailers in cells abide;
See yon long quay that stretches far and wide,
Well known to citizens as wharf of Meiggs;
There each sweet Sabbath walks in maiden pride
The pensive Margaret, and brave Pat, whose legs
Encased in broadcloth oft keep time with Peg's. ”

“ And all along the coast that year,
Votive candles were scarce and dear.
Never a tear bedims the eye
That time and patience will not dry;
Never a lip is curved with pain
That can't be kissed into smiles again. ”

“ You must do the sum to prove it," said the Yankee-answering drum.
⁠"What if, 'mid the cannons' thunder,
⁠Whistling shot and bursting bomb—
⁠When my brothers fall around me,
⁠Should my heart grow cold and numb?"
⁠But the drum
⁠Answered, "Come!
Better there in death united, than in life a recreant—Come!" ”

“ His pen! what humbler memories cling about
⁠Its golden curves; what shapes and laughing graces
Slipped from its point when his full heart went out
⁠In smiles and courtly phrases.
The truth half-jesting, half in earnest flung—
⁠The word of cheer, with recognition in it ”

“ Some glorious deed of the battle field,
⁠Some wonderful feat of thine.
"Some skilful move, when the fearful game
⁠Of battle and life was played
On yon grimy field, whose broken squares
⁠In scarlet and black are laid." ”

“ Hath spared your fields the scarlet dew
⁠That drips from patriot veins.
I've seen the grass on Eastern graves
⁠In brighter verdure rise;
But oh, the rain that gave it life
⁠Sprang first from human eyes. ”

“ I know that clarion voice;
⁠I know that gleaming eye and helm—
Those crimson lips—their dew that blends
⁠The best blood of the realm.
"The young, the brave, the good and wise,
⁠Have fallen in thy curst embrace. ”

“ Travelers of goods bereft,
Rapine, Pillage, Arson, Spoil—
Everything but honest toil,
Are the deeds that best define
Every Legend of the Rhine:
That Virtue always meets reward,
But quicker, when it wears a sword ”

“ No mark—save the bare uncovered head
⁠Of the silent bronze Reviewer—
With never an arch save the vaulted sky,
With never a flower save those that lie
On the distant graves—for love could buy
⁠No gift that was purer or truer. ”

“ OUR PRIVILEGE.
Not ours, where battle smoke upcurls,
⁠And battle dews lie wet,
To meet the charge that treason hurls
⁠By sword and bayonet.
Not ours to guide the fatal scythe
⁠The fleshless reaper wields ”

“ Shielding each from every harm—
Right and left the bullets waved,
Saved the savior for the saved.
Who believes that equal grace
God extends in every place,
Little difference he scans
'Twixt the rabbit's God, and man's. ”

“ He surely would never inveigle—
⁠Sweet youth with the crystalline eye."
But Mary, uplifting her finger,
⁠Said: "Sadly this bar I mistrust—
⁠I fear that this bar does not trust.
Oh, hasten, oh, let us not linger!
⁠Oh, fly—let us fly—ere we must!" ”

“ Thus they looked to the South—wherefrom
The pale-face medicine man should come.
Not in anger, or in strife,
But to bring—so ran the tale—
The welcome springs of eternal life,
The living waters that should not fail. ”

“ As the car went lumbering through,
Quick succeeding in review
⁠Squadrons military;
Sunburnt men, with beards like frieze,
Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these—
"U. S. San. Com." "That's the cheese!" ”

“ I was with Grant"—"Nay, nay, I know,"
⁠Said the farmer, "Say no more;
"He fell in battle—I see, alas!
⁠Thou'dst smooth these tidings o'er—
Nay: speak the truth, whatever it be
⁠Though it rend my bosom's core. ”

“ Seein' ez 't was all they had;
True, the Springs are rather late
And early Falls predominate;
But the ice crop's pretty sure,
And the air is kind o' pure;
'Taint so very mean a trade,
When the land is all surveyed. ”

“ Were strange to a practical man like Burns,
Who minded only his own concerns,
Troubled no more by fancies fine
Than one of his calm-eyed, long-tailed kine—
Quite old-fashioned and matter-of-fact,
Slow to argue, but quick to act. ”

“ This looks perfectly regal,
⁠For it 's warm, and I know I feel dry—
⁠I am confident that I feel dry:
We have come past the emeu and eagle,
⁠And watched the gay monkey on high:
Let us drink to the emeu and eagle—
⁠To the swan and the monkey on high—
⁠To the eagle and monkey on high ”

“ We'll note, love, in one summer's day
⁠The record of millions of years;
And though the Darwinian plan
⁠Your sensitive feelings may shock,
We'll find the beginning of man—
⁠Our fossil ancestors in rock! ”

“ What would the holy fathers say?
Said the Fray Antonio Estavan,
The galleon's chaplain—a learned man—
"Nothing is lost that you can regain:
And the way to look for a thing, is plain
To go where you lost it, back again. ”

“ In the purple-black of a dyed moustache;
The shallowest fop will trip in French,
The would-be critic will misquote Trench;
In short, you're always sure to detect
A sham in the things folks most affect ”

“ This mortal waif, that the outer space
Of dim mysterious sky and sand
Flung with so little of Christian grace
Down on their barren, sterile strand.
Said one to him: "It seems thy god
Is a very pitiful kind of god ”

“ She wouldn't have done had her tail been real.
Champs Élysées: Time, past five;
There go the carriages—look alive!
Everything that man can drive,
Or his inventive skill contrive—
Yankee buggy or English "chay;" ”