#Americans
Winters know Easily to shed the snow, And the untaught Spring is wise In cowslips and anemones. Nature, hating art and pains,
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;
Hast thou named all the birds with… Loved the wood-rose, and left it o… At rich men’s tables eaten bread a… Unarmed, faced danger with a heart… And loved so well a high behavior,
HENCEFORTH, please God, fore… The yoke of men’s opinions. I wil… Light—hearted as a bird, and live… I find him in the bottom of my hea… I hear continually his voice there…
Daughters of Time, the hypocritic… Muffled and dumb like barefoot der… And marching single in an endless… Bring diadems and fagots in their… To each they offer gifts after his…
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,
I wish to offer to your consideration some thoughts on the particular and general relations of man as a reformer. I shall assume that the aim of each young man in this association is th...
You shall not be overbold When you deal with arctic cold, As late I found my lukewarm blood Chilled wading in the snow—choked… How should I fight? my foeman fin…
SOME of the hurts you have cured… And the sharpest you still have su… But what torments of grief you end… From evils which never arrived!
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...
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;
Trees in groves, Kine in droves, In ocean sport the scaly herds, Wedge—like cleave the air the bird… To northern lakes fly wind—borne d…
Was never form and never face So sweet to SEYD as only grace Which did not slumber like a stone… But hovered gleaming and was gone. Beauty chased he everywhere,
What boots it, thy virtue, What profit thy parts, While one thing thou lackest, The art of all arts! The only credentials,
Burly dozing humblebee! Where thou art is clime for me. Let them sail for Porto Rique, Far—off heats through seas to seek… I will follow thee alone,
