#AmericanWriters
The rhyme of the poet Modulates the king’s affairs, Balance—loving nature Made all things in pairs. To every foot its antipode,
I love thy music, mellow bell, I love thine iron chime, To life or death, to heaven or hel… Which calls the sons of Time. Thy voice upon the deep
Bulkeley, Hunt, Willard, Hosmer,… Possessed the land which rendered… Hay, corn, roots, hemp, flax, appl… Each of these landlords walked ami… Saying, “’Tis mine, my children’s…
You shall not be overbold When you deal with arctic cold, As late I found my lukewarm blood Chilled wading in the snow—choked… How should I fight? my foeman fin…
THOUGH love repine, and reason… There came a voice without reply,— “'T is man’s perdition to be safe, When for the truth he ought to die…
The rocky nook with hilltops three Looked eastward from the farms, And twice each day the flowing sea Took Boston in its arms; The men of yore were stout and poo…
THOSE who are esteemed umpires of taste, are often persons who have acquired some knowledge of admired pictures or sculptures, and have an inclination for whatever is elegant; but if yo...
Give to barrows, trays, and pans Grace and glimmer of romance; Bring the moonlight into noon Hid in gleaming piles of stone; On the city’s paved street
The debt is paid, The verdict said, The Furies laid, The plague is stayed, All fortunes made;
Man was made of social earth, Child and brother from his birth; Tethered by a liquid cord Of blood through veins of kindred… Next his heart the fireside band
I do not count the hours I spend In wandering by the sea; The forest is my loyal friend, Like God it useth me. In plains that room for shadows ma…
Little thinks, in the field, yon r… Of thee from the hill—top looking… The heifer that lows in the upland… Far—heard, lows not thine ear to c… The sexton, tolling his bell at no…
The green grass is growing, The morning wind is in it, ‘Tis a tune worth the knowing, Though it change every minute. ’Tis a tune of the spring,
Grace, Beauty, and Caprice Build this golden portal; Graceful women, chosen men, Dazzle every mortal. Their sweet and lofty countenance
Thy trivial harp will never please Or fill my craving ear; Its chords should ring as blows th… Free, peremptory, clear. No jingling serenader’s art,