#Americans
The invitation to address you this day, with which you have honored me, was so welcome, that I made haste to obey it. A summons to celebrate with scholars a literary festival, is so all...
I Alphonso live and learn, Seeing nature go astern. Things deteriorate in kind, Lemons run to leaves and rind, Meagre crop of figs and limes,
Seek not the Spirit, if it hide, Inexorable to thy zeal: Baby, do not whine and chide; Art thou not also real? Why should’st thou stoop to poor e…
The south—wind brings Life, sunshine, and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire, But over the dead he has no power,
Good—bye, proud world! I’m going… Thou art not my friend, and I’m n… Long through thy weary crowds I r… A river—ark on the ocean brine, Long I’ve been tossed like the dr…
Wise and polite,—and if I drew Their several portraits, you would… Chaucer had no such worthy crew, Nor Boccace in Decameron. We crossed Champlain to Keesevill…
Your picture smiles as first it sm… The ring you gave is still the sam… Your letter tells, O changing chi… No tidings since it came. Give me an amulet
Virtue runs before the muse And defies her skill, She is rapt, and doth refuse To wait a painter’s will. Star—adoring, occupied,
I mourn upon this battle—field, But not for those who perished her… Behold the river—bank Whither the angry farmers came, In sloven dress and broken rank,
Two well—assorted travellers use The highway, Eros and the Muse. From the twins is nothing hidden, To the pair is naught forbidden; Hand in hand the comrades go
What boots it, thy virtue, What profit thy parts, While one thing thou lackest, The art of all arts! The only credentials,
Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, kindred, days, Estate, good—frame, Plans, credit and the Muse,—
IT fell in the ancient periods Which the brooding soul surveys, Or ever the wild Time coin’d itse… Into calendar months and days. This was the lapse of Uriel,
The sun set, but set not his hope: Stars rose; his faith was earlier… Fixed on the enormous galaxy, Deeper and older seemed his eye; And matched his sufferance sublime
Parks and ponds are good by day; I do not delight In black acres of the night, Nor my unseasoned step disturbs The sleeps of trees or dreams of h…
