#AmericanWriters
Addressed to Francis Greenleaf A… You scarcely need my tardy thanks, Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend… A green leaf on your own Green Ba… The memory of your friend.
WITH COPIES OF THE A… Friend of mine! whose lot was cast With me in the distant past; Where, like shadows flitting fast, Fact and fancy, thought and theme,
For Dr Henry L Bowditch With warning hand I mark Time’s r… flight From life’s glad morning to it’s s… night;
Somehow not only for Christmas But all the long year through, The joy that you give to others Is the joy that comes back to you. And the more you spend in blessing
He comes,– he comes,– the Frost S… You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted… And the brown hill’s withered brow… He has smitten the leaves of the g…
Is this the land our fathers loved… The freedom which they toiled to w… Is this the soil whereon they move… Are these the graves they slumber… Are we the sons by whom are borne
How has New England’s romance fle… Even as a vision of the morning! Its rites foredone, its guardians… Its priestesses, bereft of dread, Waking the veriest urchin’s scorni…
After the Danish of Christian Wi… Where, over heathen doom-rings and… In its little Christian city stan… In merry mood King Volmer sat, fo… As idle as the Goose of Gold that…
To kneel before some saintly shrin… To breathe the health of airs divi… Or bathe where sacred rivers flow, The cowled and turbaned pilgrims g… I too, a palmer, take, as they
From pain and peril, by land and m… The shipwrecked sailor came back a… And like one from the dead, the th… Of his wondering home, that had mo… Where he sat once more with his ki…
O strong, upwelling prayers of fai… From inmost founts of life ye star… The spirit’s pulse, the vital brea… Of soul and heart! From pastoral toil, from traffic’s…
With fifty years between you and y… The Golden Age, old friends of mi… And, sweet as has life’s vintage b… Still, as at Cana’s marriage-feas… Again before me, with your names,…
NOW, joy and thanks forevermore! The dreary night has wellnigh pass… The slumbers of the North are o’e… The Giant stands erect at last! More than we hoped in that dark ti…
HURRAH! the seaward breezes Sweep down the bay amain; Heave up, my lads, the anchor! Run up the sail again! Leave to the lubber landsmen
Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stain… Behold! thou art a woman still! And, by that sacred name and dear, I bid thy better self appear. Still, through thy foul disguise,…