ORATION SERVICES, CAMBRIDGE JULY 21, 1865
EDWARD EVERETT: JANUARY 30, 1865
SHAKESPEARE TERCENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, APRIL 23, 1864
IN MEMORY OF JOHN AND ROBERT WARE, MAY 25, 1864
HUMBOLDT'S BIRTHDAY: CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, SEPTEMBER 14, 1869
POEM AT THE DEDICATION OF THE HALLECK MONUMENT, JULY 8, 1869
HYMN FOR THE CELEBRATION AT THE LAYING OF THE CORNER-STONE OF
HARVARD MEMORIAL HALL, CAMBRIDGE, OCTOBER 6, 1870
HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF MEMORIAL HALL AT CAMBRIDGE, 1874
HYMN AT THE FUNERAL SERVICES OF CHARLES SUMNER, APRIL 29, 1874

RHYMES OF AN HOUR
ADDRESS FOR THE OPENING OF THE FIFTH AVENUE THEATRE, N. Y. 1873
A SEA DIALOGUE
CHANSON WITHOUT MUSIC
FOR THE CENTENNIAL DINNER, PROPRIETORS OF BOSTON PIER, 1873
A POEM SERVED TO ORDER
THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH
No TIME LIKE THE OLD TIME
A HYMN OF PEACE, TO THE MUSIC OF KELLER'S "AMERICAN HYMN"

OPENING THE WINDOW

THUS I lift the sash, so long
Shut against the flight of song;
All too late for vain excuse,--
Lo, my captive rhymes are loose.

Rhymes that, flitting through my brain,
Beat against my window-pane,
Some with gayly colored wings,
Some, alas! with venomed stings.

Shall they bask in sunny rays?
Shall they feed on sugared praise?
Shall they stick with tangled feet
On the critic's poisoned sheet?

Are the outside winds too rough?
Is the world not wide enough?
Go, my winged verse, and try,--
Go, like Uncle Toby's fly!

PROGRAMME

READER--gentle--if so be
Such still live, and live for me,
Will it please you to be told
What my tenscore pages hold?

Here are verses that in spite
Of myself I needs must write,
Like the wine that oozes first
When the unsqueezed grapes have burst.

Here are angry lines, "too hard!"
Says the soldier, battle-scarred.
Could I smile his scars away
I would blot the bitter lay,

Written with a knitted brow,
Read with placid wonder now.
Throbbed such passion in my heart?
Did his wounds once really smart?

Here are varied strains that sing
All the changes life can bring,
Songs when joyous friends have met,
Songs the mourner's tears have wet.

See the banquet's dead bouquet,
Fair and fragrant in its day;
Do they read the selfsame lines,--
He that fasts and he that dines?

Year by year, like milestones placed,
Mark the record F