Time's corrosive dewdrop eats The giant warrior to a crust Of earth in earth and rust in rust. - Francis Turner Palgrave

In the season of white wild roses We two went hand in hand: But now in the ruddy autumn Together already we stand.

Earth all one tomb lies round me, Domed with an iron sky: And God Himself in His power, God cannot save me! I cry.

This little Collection differs, it is believed, from others in the attempt made to include in it all the best original lyrical pieces and songs in our language, by writers not living, and none besides the best. The Editor will regard as his fittest readers those who love poetry so well, that he can offer them nothing not already known and valued.