#Americans
(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;
(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…
(ALKALI STATION) Cicely says you’re a poet; maybe,—… I reckon you’d give me a hundred,… Poetry!—that’s the way some chaps… But I takes mine ‘straight withou…
AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR ‘I was with Grant’—the stranger s… Said the farmer, ‘Say no more, But rest thee here at my cottage p… For thy feet are weary and sore.’
Beetling walls with ivy grown, Frowning heights of mossy stone; Turret, with its flaunting flag Flung from battlemented crag; Dungeon-keep and fortalice
FATHER FELIPE I speak not the English well, but… She speak for me; is it not so, my… Eh, little rogue? Come, salute me… Americano.
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…
(A GEOLOGICAL ADDRESS) ‘Speak, O man, less recent! Fragm… Primal pioneer of pliocene formati… Hid in lowest drifts below the ear… Of volcanic tufa!
(RE-UNION, ARMY OF THE… Well, you see, the fact is, Colon… For the farm is not half planted,… And my leg is getting troublesome,… And the doctors, they have cut and…
Above the bones St. Ursula owns, And those of the virgins she chape… Above the boats, And the bridge that floats,
(ON THE APPROACH OF SPRI… Oh, come, my beloved, from thy win… From thy home on the Yuba, thy ra… For the waters have fallen, the wi… And the river once more has return…
It was the morning season of the y… It was the morning era of the land… The watercourses rang full loud an… Portala’s cross stood where Porta… Had planted it when Faith was tau…
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…
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…
(IN THE COLORADO PARK, 187… Wot’s that you’re readin’?—a novel… You a man grown and bearded and hi… Stuff about gals and their sweethe… knife.
