#AmericanWriters
What a contrast between the stern and desolate poetry of Ossian, and that of Chaucer, and even of Shakespeare and Milton, much more of Dryden, and Pope, and Gray. Our summer of English ...
SALMON Brook, Penichook, Ye sweet waters of my brain, When shall I look, Or cast the hook,
Light-winged Smoke, Icarian bird, Melting thy pinions in thy upward… Lark without song, and messenger o… Circling above the hamlets as they… Or else, departing dream, and shad…
Conscience is instinct bred in the… Feeling and Thinking propagate th… By an unnatural breeding in and in… I say, Turn it out doors, Into the moors.
Sometimes a mortal feels in himsel… —not his Father but his Mother st… within him, and he becomes immorta… immortality. From time to time she… kindredship with us, and some glob…
Thomas Carlyle is a Scotchman, born about fifty years ago, “at Ecclefechan, Annandale,” according to one authority. “His parents ‘good farmer people,’ his father an elder in the Secessi...
About six o’clock we started for Quebec, one hundred and eighty miles distant by the river; gliding past Longueil and Boucherville on the right, and Pointe aux Trembles, “so called from...
Time wears her not; she doth his c… Mortality below her orb is placed. —Raleigh The full-orbed moon with unchanged… Mounts up the eastern sky,
Sending In delinquency To disappoint The amber of water At a high soul
What’s the railroad to me? I never go to see Where it ends. It fills a few hollows, And makes banks for the swallows,
Europeans coming to America are surprised by the brilliancy of our autumnal foliage. There is no account of such a phenomenon in English poetry, because the trees acquire but few bright...
This lighthouse, known to mariners as the Cape Cod or Highland Light, is one of our “primary seacoast lights,” and is usually the first seen by those approaching the entrance of Massach...
centeredWritten around 1840 for The Dial, it was rejected and remained unpublished until 1902. The brave man is the elder son of creation, who has stepped buoyantly into his inheritance...
My books I’d fain cast off, I can… ‘Twixt every page my thoughts go s… Down in the meadow, where is riche… And will not mind to hit their pro… Plutarch was good, and so was Hom…
Every man is entitled to come to cattle-show, even a transcendentalist; and for my part I am more interested in the men than in the cattle. I wish to see once more those old familiar fa...