The two parties which divide the state, the party of Conservatism and that of Innovation, are very old, and have disputed the possession of the world ever since it was made. This quarre...

Space is ample, east and west, But two cannot go abreast, Cannot travel in it two: Yonder masterful cuckoo Crowds every egg out of the nest,

BRING me wine, but wine which ne… In the belly of the grape, Or grew on vine whose tap—roots, r… Under the Andes to the Cape, Suffer’d no savour of the earth to…

The green grass is growing, The morning wind is in it, ‘Tis a tune worth the knowing, Though it change every minute. ’Tis a tune of the spring,

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,

Our age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, and criticism. The foregoing generations beheld God and nature face to face; we, thr...

S. H. With beams December planets dart His cold eye truth and conduct sca… July was in his sunny heart, October in his liberal hand.

This is he, who, felled by foes, Sprung harmless up, refreshed by b… He to captivity was sold, But him no prison—bars would hold: Though they sealed him in a rock,

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…

We are met to exchange congratulations on the anniversary of an event singular in the history of civilization; a day of reason; of the clear light; of that which makes us better than a ...

Can rules or tutors educate The semigod whom we await? He must be musical, Tremulous, impressional, Alive to gentle influence

Low and mournful be the strain, Haughty thought be far from me; Tones of penitence and pain, Moanings of the tropic sea; Low and tender in the cell

I cannot spare water or wine, Tobacco—leaf, or poppy, or rose; From the earth—poles to the Line, All between that works or grows, Every thing is kin of mine.

I hung my verses in the wind, Time and tide their faults may fin… All were winnowed through and thro… Five lines lasted sound and true; Five were smelted in a pot

Good Heart, that ownest all! I ask a modest boon and small: Not of lands and towns the gift,— Too large a load for me to lift,— But for one proper creature,