#Americans
Once I wished I might rehearse Freedom’s paean in my verse, That the slave who caught the stra… Should throb until he snapped his… But the Spirit said, 'Not so;
They brought me rubies from the mi… And held them to the sun; I said, they are drops of frozen w… From Eden’s vats that run. I looked again,—I thought them he…
Set not thy foot on graves; Hear what wine and roses say; The mountain chase, the summer wav… The crowded town, thy feet may wel… Set not thy foot on graves;
It is remarkable, that our people have their intellectual culture from one country, and their duties from another. This false state of things is newly in a way to be corrected. America ...
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
AND when I am entombèd in my pla… Be it remembered of a single man, He never, though he dearly loved h… For fear of human eyes swerved fro… OH what is Heaven but the fellows…
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…
If I could put my woods in song And tell what’s there enjoyed, All men would to my gardens throng… And leave the cities void. In my plot no tulips blow,—
In this refulgent summer, it has been a luxury to draw the breath of life. The grass grows, the buds burst, the meadow is spotted with fire and gold in the tint of flowers. The air is f...
If thou canst bear Strong meat of simple truth If thou durst my words compare With what thou thinkest in my soul… Then take this fact unto thy soul,…
I am the Muse who sung alway By Jove, at dawn of the first day… Star—crowned, sole—sitting, long… To fire the stagnant earth with th… On spawning slime my song prevails…
If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near;
When I was born, From all the seas of strength Fat… Saying, This be thy portion, chil… Less than a lily’s, thou shalt dai… From my great arteries; nor less,…
Mine are the night and morning, The pits of air, the gulf of space… The sportive sun, the gibbous moon… The innumerable days. I hid in the solar glory,
Thee, dear friend, a brother sooth… Not with flatteries, but truths, Which tarnish not, but purify To light which dims the morning’s… I have come from the spring—woods,
