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American poet and critic
(1833 - 1908)
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The crystal-pointed tents from hill to hill.
      - Alice of Monmouth (XI) [War]

No clouds are in the morning sky,
  The vapors hug the stream,
    Who says that life and love can die
      In all this northern gleam?
        At every turn the maples burn,
          The quail is whistling free,
            The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs
              Are dropping for you and me.
                Ho! hillyho! heigh O!
                    In the clear October morning.
      - Autumn Song [October]

Worth, courage, honor, these indeed
  Your sustenance and birthright are.
      - Beyond the Portals (pt. 10) [Character]

Alas, by what rude fate
  Our lives, like ships at sea, an instant meet,
    Then part forever on their courses fleet.
      - Blameless Prince (st. 51) [Meeting]

When buttercups are blossoming,
  The poets sand, 'tis best to wed:
    So all for love we paired in Spring--
      Blanche and I--ere youth had sped.
      - Bohemia [Buttercups]

Give us a man of God's own mould
  Born to marshall his fellow-men;
    One whose fame is not bought and sold
      At the stroke of a politician's pen.
        Give us the man of thousands ten,
          Fit to do as well as to plan;
            Give us a rallying-cry, and then
              Abraham Lincoln, give us a Man.
      - Give us a Man [Lincoln, Abraham : Man]

Lo, as I gaze, the statured man,
  Built up from you large hand appears:
    A type that nature wills to plan
      But once in all a people's years.
      - Hand of Lincoln [Lincoln, Abraham]

Look on this cast, and know the hand
  That bore a nation in its hold;
    From this mute witness understand
      What Lincoln was--how large of mould.
      - Hand of Lincoln [Lincoln, Abraham]

I drink deep draughts of its nectar.
      - Heliotrope [Heliotropes]

O sweetest of all the flowerets
  That bloom where angels tread!
    But never such marvelous odor,
      From heliotrope was shed.
      - Heliotrope [Heliotropes]

But, Virginians, don't do it, for I tell you that the flagon,
  Filled with blood of Old Brown's offspring, was first poured by Southern hands;
    And each drop from Old Brown's life-veins, like the red gore of the Dragon,
      May spring up a vengeful Fury, hissing through your slave-worn lands:
        And Old Brown,
          Osawatomie Brown,
            May trouble you worse than ever, when you've nailed his coffin down.
      - How Old Brown Took Harper's Ferry,
        written during Brown's Trial, Nov., 1859

Just where the Treasury's marble front
  Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations,--
    Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont
      To throng for trade and last quotations;
        Where, hour, by hour, the rates of gold
          Outrival, in the ears of people,
            The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled
              From Trinity's undaunted steeple.
      - Pan in Wall Street [New York]

Thou art mine, thou hast given thy word,
  Close, close in my arms thou art clinging;
    Alone for my ear thou art singing
      A song which no stranger hath heard:
        But afar from me yet, like a bird,
          Thy soul in some region unstirr'd
            On its mystical circuit is winging.
      - Stanzas for Music [Wives]

No, he was no such charlatan--
  Count de Hoboken Flash-in-the-Pan--
    Full of gasconade and bravado,
      But a regular, rich Don Rataplane,
        Santa Claus de la Muscavado,
          Senor Grandissimo Bastinado!
            His was the rental of half Havana
              And all Matanzas; and Santa Ana,
                Rich as he was, could hardly hold
                  A candle to light the mines of gold
                    Our Cuban owned.
      - The Diamond Wedding (st. 7) [Wealth]

My lips till then had only known
  The kiss of mother and of sister,
    But somehow, full upon her own
      Sweet, rosy, darling mouth,--I kissed her.
      - The Door-Step [Kisses]

Whither away, Bluebird,
  Whither away?
    The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky
      Thou still canst find the color of thy wing,
        The hue of May.
          Warbler, why speed, thy southern flight? ah, why,
            Thou, too, whose song first told us of the Spring?
              Whither away?
      - The Flight of Birds [Bluebirds]

Bird of the amber beak,
  Bird of the golden wing!
    Thy dower is thy carolling;
      Thou hast not far to seek
        Thy bread, nor needest wine
          To make thy utterance divine;
            Thou art canopied and clothed
              And unto Song bethrothed.
      - The Songster (st. 2) [Canaries]

They seemed to whisper: "How handsome she is!
  What wavy tresses! what sweet perfume!
    Under her mantle she hides her wings;
      Her flower of a bonnet is just in bloom."
      - Translation--Jean Prouvaire's Song at the Barricade

Could we but know
  The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel.
      - Undiscovered Country [Future]

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