My journeyings lead me on through many places,
But none of them the home I could desire;
And in the streets I meet a thousand faces
Without one to admire.

But make our home in any place—each day
Does everything within its bounds or near it,
Assume a homely beauty, as if they
Put out their inner spirit.

Approach the most forbidding face so near
That we can see the truer face behind,
And in some brightening feature will appear
The beauty of a friend.

The secret of all love for friends and homes
Is beauty. It lies deeper than the skin;

Oh, how long, how long was the night!
And I spent it in passion and tears,
Thinking only of you, of you,
At the night-bird's song, at the dawn and the dew,
Love, how long, how long, was the night!

Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green,
As, on opening the box, may be seen,
Some yards of a Black Ploughman's Gauze,
To be made up directly, because
Miss Lloyd must in mourning appear—
For the death of a Relative dear—
Miss Lloyd must expect to receive
This license to mourn & to grieve,
Complete, er'e the end of the week—
It is better to write than to speak—

This is a fair in Magh Eala of the king: the fair of Liffey with its brilliancy: happy for each one that goes thither, he is not like Guaire the Blind.
Guaire the Blind was not in truth my name when I used to be in the king's house, in the house of excellent Fearghus on the strand over Bearramhain.
The horses of the Fiana would come to the race, and the horses of the Munstermen of the great races: they once held three famous contests on the green of the sons of Muiridh.

O love, that you and I might wing our way
Far from the restlessness of earth and sea,
Past the fresh well-heads of the springing day,
To where grey hills sleep everlastingly!

They through the lapse of ages sleep unchanged
(From the primeval deeps they never burst)
In that sweet land where yet unborn we ranged,
By those swift rivers where I loved you first.

'Twas a saying in use with the great Mr Lowndes,
Take all care of the pence and no care of the pounds;
For the pence may escape you like volatile elves,
While the slow solid pounds can take care of themselves.

The limpid river, past its bushes
Running slowly as my chariot,
Becomes a fellow voyager
Returning home with the evening birds.
A ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry,
Autumn sunset floods the peaks.
… Far away, beside Mount Sung,
I shall close my door and be at peace.

A MIGHTY and a mingled throng
Were gather'd in one spot;
The dwellers of a thousand homes—
Yet 'midst them voice was not.

The soldier and his chief were there—
The mother and her child:
The friends, the sisters of one hearth—
None spoke—none moved—none smiled.

There lovers met, between whose lives
Years had swept darkly by;
After that heart-sick hope deferr'd—
They met—but silently.

You might have heard the rustling leaf,
The breeze's faintest sound,
The shiver of an insect's wing,
On that thick-peopled ground.

Madam

Nae Heathen Name shall I prefix,
Frae Pindus or Parnassus;
Auld Reekie dings them a' to sticks
For rhyme-inspiring Lasses.—

Jove's tunefu' Dochters three times three
Made Homer deep their debtor;
But gien the body half an e'e,
Nine Ferriers wad done better.—

Last day my mind was in a bog,
Down George's street I stoited;
A creeping, cauld Prosaic fog
My vera senses doited.—

Do what I dought to set her free,
My Muse lay in the mire;
Ye turn'd a neuk—I saw your e'e—
She took the wing like fire.—

There was a braw ball in Edinburgh,
And mony braw ladies were there,
But nae ane at a' the assembly
Could wi Lizzie Lindsay compare.

In cam the young laird o Kincassie,
An a bonnie young laddie was he:
‘Will ye lea yere ain kintra, Lizzie,
An gang to the Hielands wi me?’

She turned her roun on her heel,
An a very loud laughter gaed she:
‘I wad like to ken whar I was ganging,
And wha I was gaun to gang wi.’

‘My name is young Donald M'Donald,
My name I will never deny;
My father he is an auld shepherd,