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Woo the fair one when around Early birds are singing; When o'er all the fragrant ground Early herbs are springing: When the brookside, bank, and grove All with blossom laden, Shine with beauty, breathe of love, Woo the timid maiden. - Love's Lessons [Wooing] Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find The perfumes thou dost bring? - May Evening (st. 2) [Wind] Weep not that the world changes--did it keep A stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep. - Mutation [Change] The fiercest agonies have shortest reign; And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace. - Mutation (l. 4) [Peace] And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last. - November [Gentians] And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. - October [October] The sweet calm sunshine of October, now Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mould The purple oak-leaf falls; the birchen bough Drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold. - October [October] Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away. In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks, And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men as thou dost pass. - October (l. 5) [Wind] Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook. - Oh, Fairest of the Rural Maids [Eyes] Lay down the axe; fling by the spade; Leave in its track the toiling plough; The rifle and the bayonet-blade For arms like yours were fitter now; And let the hands that ply the pen Quit the light task, and learn to wield The horseman's crooked brand, and rein The charger on the battle-field. - Our Country's Call [War] Modest and shy as a nun is she; One weak chirp is her only note; Braggarts and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat. - Robert of Lincoln [Bobolinks] Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest, Wearing a bright black wedding-coat; White are his shoulders and white his crest. - Robert of Lincoln [Bobolinks] The August cloud . . . suddenly Melts into streams of rain. - Sella [August] Alas! to seize the moment When the heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. If man come not to gather The roses where they stand, They fade among their foliage, They cannot seek his hand. - Song, translated from the Spanish of Iglesias [Wooing] The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky. - Strange Lady [Morning] All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. - Thanatopsis [Death : Graves : Tombs] Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings. - Thanatopsis [Nature] Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. - Thanatopsis [Death] To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language. - Thanatopsis [Nature] That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-- Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. - Thanatopsis (l. 43) [Ocean] Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race? - The Ages (XXXIII) [Freedom] Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair. - The Artic Lover [Windflowers] Truth crushed to earth shall rise again: Th' eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers. - The Battle Field (st. 9) [Truth] Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down. - The Cloud on the Way (l. 18) [Sun] The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. - The Death of the Flowers (l. 221) [Autumn] Displaying page 5 of 6 for this author: << Prev Next >> 1 2 3 4 [5] 6
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