#Americans
(MUD FLAT, 1860) So you’re back from your travels,… And you left but a twelvemonth ago… You’ve hobnobbed with Louis Napol… Eugenie, and kissed the Pope’s to…
(A GEOGRAPHICAL SURVEY, 1… Very fair and full of promise Lay the island of St. Thomas: Ocean o’er its reefs and bars Hid its elemental scars;
(PRESIDIO DE SAN FRANCI… Looking seaward, o’er the sand-hil… quaint, By the San Francisco friars lifte… Sponsor to that wondrous city, now…
The dews are heavy on my brow; My breath comes hard and low; Yet, mother dear, grant one reques… Before your boy must go. Oh! lift me ere my spirit sinks,
I read last night of the Grand Re… In Washington’s chiefest avenue,- Two hundred thousand men in blue, I think they said was the number,- Till I seemed to hear their tramp…
(LEGEND OF THE CLIFF… Where the sturdy ocean breeze Drives the spray of roaring seas, That the Cliff House balconies Overlook:
As I stand by the cross on the lo… Looking over the ultimate sea, In the gloom of the mountain a shi… And one sails away from the lea: One spreads its white wings on a f…
Name of my heroine, simply ‘Rose;… Surname, tolerable only in prose; Habitat, Paris,—that is where She resided for change of air; Aetat twenty; complexion fair;
(BEING THE ONLY GENUI… Maud Muller all that summer day Raked the meadow sweet with hay; Yet, looking down the distant lane… She hoped the Judge would come ag…
Above the pines the moon was slowl… The river sang below; The dim Sierras, far beyond, upli… Their minarets of snow. The roaring camp-fire, with rude h…
(WAR OF THE REBELLION, 188… No, I won’t,—thar, now, so! And i… And thar’s nary to tell that you f… And it’s ‘Belle, tell us, do!’ an… And 'Wot’s this yer yarn of the M…
We know him well: no need of prais… Or bonfire from the windy hill To light to softer paths and ways The world-worn man we honor still. No need to quote the truths he spo…
(SIERRAS) We checked our pace, the red road… We heard the troubled flow Of the dark olive depths of pines… A thousand feet below.
An empty bench, a sky of grayest e… A bare, bleak shed in blackest sil… Twelve years of platform, and befo… Twelve miles of prairie glimmering… North, south, east, west,—the same…
Came the relief. ‘What, sentry, h… How passed the night through thy l… ‘Cold, cheerless, dark,—as may bef… The hour before the dawn is breaki… ‘No sight? no sound?’ ‘No; nothin…