There is one mind common to all individual men. Every man is an inlet to the same and to all of the same. He that is once admitted to the right of reason is made a freeman of the whol...

The first thing we have to say respecting what are called new views here in New England, at the present time, is, that they are not new, but the very oldest of thoughts cast into the mo...

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 rhyme of the poet Modulates the king’s affairs, Balance—loving nature Made all things in pairs. To every foot its antipode,

I serve you not, if you I follow, Shadow—like, o’er hill and hollow, And bend my fancy to your leading, All too nimble for my treading. When the pilgrimage is done,

Roving, roving, as it seems, Una lights my clouded dreams; Still for journeys she is dressed; We wander far by east and west. In the homestead, homely thought;

Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, Repeats the music of the rain; But sweeter rivers pulsing flit Through thee, as thou through the… Thou in thy narrow banks art pent:

Venus, when her son was lost, Cried him up and down the coast, In hamlets, palaces, and parks, And told the truant by his marks, Golden curls, and quiver, and bow;…

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,

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…

“May be true what I had heard, Earth’s a howling wilderness Truculent with fraud and force,” Said I, strolling through the pas… And along the riverside.

Winters know Easily to shed the snow, And the untaught Spring is wise In cowslips and anemones. Nature, hating art and pains,

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

I mourn upon this battle—field, But not for those who perished her… Behold the river—bank Whither the angry farmers came, In sloven dress and broken rank,