قصائد أجنبية

;The night was creeping on the ground  She crept and did not make a sound  Until she reached the tree, and then  She covered it, and sole again 

,At last I'm taking off this coat this black coat of a country ,that I swore for years was mine that I wore more out of habit

When stretch’d on one’s bed ,With a fierce-throbbing head ,Which preculdes alike thought or repose How little one cares

‘,A soldier of the Union mustered out’ Is the inscription on an unknown grave

,But who art thou, with curious beauty graced‘ O woman, stamped with some bright heavenly seal ’?Why go thy feet on wings, and in such haste ,I am that maid whose secret few may steal‘

,Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm ,Nor question much ;That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm ;The mystery, the sign, you must not touch