Poets From The United States

"The first thing to be done by a biographer in estimating character is to examine the stubs of his victim's cheque-books."

"Where did this filthy thing come from?"

"I must have told my story ill if to every physician who hears me its illustrations have not the invigorating force of moral tonics."

"Bring me your children hither. … Unto this twain, man-child and womanchild, I give the passion of this element; This seed of longing, substance of this love; This power, this purity, this annihilation. Let their hands light the altar of the world. 'T is yours forever. I have brought it home!"

"Hark, below, the many-voiced earth, The chanting of the old religious trees, Rustle of far-off waters, woven sounds Of small and multitudinous lives awake, Peopling the grasses and the pools with joy, Uttering their meaning to the mystic night!"

"Some reckon time by stars, And some by hours: Some measure days by dreams, And some by flowers: My heart alone records My days and hours."

"Passion is power, And, kindly tempered, saves. All things declare Struggle hath deeper peace than sleep can bring."

"There are haunters of the silence, ghosts that hold the heart and brain."

"Time softly there Laughs through the abyss of radiance with the gods."

"Again let us dream where the land lies sunny, And live, like the bees, on our hearts' old honey, Away from the world that slaves for money—  Come, journey the way with me."

"The gods despise enforcèd offerings. When the heart brings its dearest and its last Then only will they hear—if then, if then!"

"What magic shall solve us the secret Of beauty that’s born for an hour?"

"Though sands be black and bitter black the sea, Light lie before me and behind me night, And God within far Heaven refuse to light The consolation of the dawn for me,— Between the shadowy bournes of Heaven and Hell, It is enough love leaves my soul to dwell  With Memory."

"Into the sunset’s turquoise marge The moon dips, like a pearly barge; Enchantment sails through magic seas, To fairyland Hesperides, Over the hills and away."

"Why will we struggle to attain, and strive When all we gain is but an empty dream?— Better, unto my thinking, doth it seem To end it all and let who will survive;To find at last all beauty is but dust; That love and sorrow are the very same; That joy is only suffering's sweeter name; And sense is but the synonym of lust.Far better, yea, it seems to me to die; To set glad lips against the lips of Death— The only thing God gives that comforteth, The only thing we do not find a lie."

"At daybreak Morn shall come to me In raiment of the white winds spun."

"A moonlight traveler in Fancy’s land."

"When death hath poured oblivion through my veins And brought me home, as all are brought, to lie In that vast house, common to serfs and thanes,— I shall not die, I shall not utterly die, For beauty born of beauty—that remains."

"Some shall reap that never sow; And some shall toil and not attain."

"When the hornet hangs in the hollyhock, And the brown bee drones i' the rose, And the west is a red-streaked four-o'-clock And summer is near its close— It's—Oh for the gate and the lotus lane And dusk and dew and home again!"

"A rope, a prayer, and an oak-tree near, And a score of hands to swing him clear. A grim, black thing for the setting sun And the moon and the stars to look upon."

"The terrible rumble, grumble and roar Telling the battle was on once more— And Sheridan twenty miles away!"

"I am a part of all you see In Nature; part of all you feel: I am the impact of the bee Upon the blossom; in the tree I am the sap,—that shall reveal The leaf, the bloom,—that flows and flutes Up from the darkness through its roots."

"Old homes! old hearts! Upon my soul forever Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter."

"This is the truth as I see it, my dear, Out in the wind and the rain: They who have nothing have little to fear,— Nothing to lose or to gain."

"Within the sober realm of leafless trees, The russet year inhaled the dreamy air; Like some tanned reaper, in his hour of ease, When all the fields are lying brown and bare."

"My soul to-day Is far away Sailing the Vesuvian Bay."

"With dreamful eyes My spirit lies Under the walls of Paradise."

"Yon deep bark goes Where Traffic blows From lands of sun to lands of snows;— Yon happier one, Its course is run From lands of snow to lands of sun."

"We bring roses, beautiful fresh roses, Dewy as the morning and colored like the dawn."

"O Night! most beautiful and rare! Thou givest the heavens their holiest hue, And through the azure fields of air Bring’st down the gentle dew."

"Press on! If Fortune play thee false To-day, tomorrow she'll be true; Whom now she sinks she now exalts, Taking old gifts and granting new, The wisdom of the present hour Makes up the follies past and gone; To weakness, strength succeeds, and power From frailty springs! Press on, press on!"

"But then to part! to part when Time Has wreathed his tireless wing with flowers, And spread the richness of a clime Of fairy o'er this land of ours; When glistening leaves and shaded streams In the soft light of Autumn lay, And, like the music of our dreams, The viewless breezes seemed to stray— 'T was bitter then to rend the heart With the sad thought that we must part; And, like some low and mournful spell, To whisper but one word—farewell!"

"Pure and undimmed, thy angel smile Is mirrored on my dreams, Like evening's sunset-girded isle Upon her shadowed streams: And o'er my thoughts thy vision floats, Like melody of spring-bird, notes; When the blue halcyon gently laves His plumage in the flashing waves."

"Press on! there's no such word as fail! Press nobly on! the goal is near,— Ascend the mountain! breast the gale! Look upward, onward,—never fear! Why shouldst thou faint? Heaven smiles above, Though storm and vapor intervene; That sun shines on, whose name is Love, Serenely o'er Life's shadow'd scene."

"Flowers are Love's truest language."

"The mountain rill Seeks with no surer flow the far bright sea, Than my unchang'd affections flow to thee."

"I'm king of the dead—and I make my throne On a monument slab of marble cold; And my scepter of rule is the spade I hold: Come they from cottage or come they from hall, Mankind are my subjects, all, all, all! Let them loiter in pleasure or toilfully spin— I gather them in, I gather them in!"

"Great faith it needs, according to my view, To trust in that which never could be true."

"He loved his kind, but sought the love of few, And valued old opinions more than new."

"Freedom!" their battle-cry,— "Freedom! or leave to die!"

"Fold him in his country's stars, Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking folly?"

"Lovers are Like walking ghosts, they always haunt the spot Of their misdeeds."

"Love is that orbit of the restless soul Whose circle grazes the confines of space, Bounding within the limits of its race Utmost extremes."

"With years a richer life begins, The spirit mellows: Ripe age gives tone to violins, Wine, and good fellows."

"The all-enclosing freehold of Content."

"I keep some portion of my early gleam; Brokenly bright, like moonbeams on a river, It lights my life, a far illusive dream, Moves as I move, and leads me on forever."

"Sparkling and bright in liquid light Does the wine our goblets gleam in; With hue as red as the rosy bed Which a bee would choose to dream in. Then fill to-night, with hearts as light To loves as gay and fleeting As bubbles that swim on the beaker’s brim And break on the lips while meeting."

"Men are polished, through act and speech, Each by each, As pebbles are smoothed on the rolling beach."

"Our days, our deeds, all we achieve or are, Lay folded in our infancy; the things Of good or ill we choose while yet unborn."