Ah, who will tell me, in these lea… Why the sweet Spring delays, And where she hides, —the dear des… Of every heart that longs For bloom, and fragrance, and the…

The mountains that enfold the vale With walls of granite, steep and h… Invite the fearless foot to scale Their stairway toward the sky. The restless, deep, dividing sea

If I have erred in showing all my… And lost your favour by a lack of… If standing like a beggar at your… With naked feet, I have forgot th… Of those who bargain well in passi…

I put my heart to school In the world, where men grow wise, “Go out,” I said, “and learn the… Come back when you win a prize.” My heart came back again:

The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour In darkness, and beyond thy power: Behind its unreturning line,

They who tread the path of labor f… They who work without complaining,… Nevermore thou needest seek me; I… Raise the stone, and thou shalt fi… Where the many toil together, ther…

I would not even ask my heart to s… If I could love some other land a… As thee, my country, had I felt t… Of Italy at birth, or learned to… The charm of France, or England’s…

0 who will walk a mile with me Along life’s merry way? A comrade blithe and full of glee, Who dares to laugh out loud and fr… And let his frolic fancy play,

The other night I had a dream, mo… And comforting, complete In every line, a crystal sphere, And full of intimate and secret ch… Therefore I will repeat

If on the closed curtain of my sig… My fancy paints thy portrait far a… I see thee still the same, by nigh… Crossing the crowded street, or mo… 'Mid festal throngs, or reading by…

Let me but live my life from year… With forward face and unreluctant… Not hurrying to, nor turning from… Not mourning for the things that d… In the dim past, nor holding back…

“Do you give thanks for this? —or… No, God be thanked I am not grateful In that cold, calculating way, wit… As one, two, three, and four, —tha…

Dear to my heart are the ancestral… Dearer than if they were haunted b… These are the homes that were buil… They are simple enough to be great… I love the old white farmhouses ne…

Now in the oak the sap of life is… Tho’ to the bough the rusty leafag… Now on the elm the misty buds are… See how the pine—wood grows alive… Blue—jays fluttering, yodeling and…