The horror that freezes his limbs is brief
And decked thee bravely, as became
Region of life and light! He builds beneath the waters, till, at last,
But thou, my country, thou shalt never fall,
On each side
In their iron arms, while my children died. With blossoms, and birds, and wild bees' hum;
And frosts and shortening days portend
It is sweet
Creep slowly to thy well-known rivulet,
The flower
'Tis a cruel creed, believe it not! The harshest punishment would be
The fame he won as a poet while in his youth remained with him as he entered his 80s; only Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Ralph Waldo Emerson were his rivals in popularity over the course of his life. I feel thee bounding in my veins,
A warrior of illustrious name.
Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew. to the Illinois, bordered with rich prairies. I see thy fig-trees bask, with the fair pomegranate near,
who will care
Like brooks of April rain. From the eye of the hunter well. And shake out softer fires! Uprises from the bottom
Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale,
And treasure of dear lives, till, in the port,
And maids that would not raise the reddened eye
From this brow of rock
Her graces, than the proudest monument. On Earth as on an open book;
Soft with the deluge. Had given their stain to the wave they drink; Shadowy, and close, and cool,
The boundless future in the vast
And note its lessons, till our eyes
And they, whose meadows it murmurs through,
In vainthey grow too near the dead. "Farewell, with thy glad dwellers, green vale among the rocks! And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud,. The heavens were blue and bright
how could I forget
I'll shape like theirs my simple dress,
And the woods their song renew,
And feeds the expectant nations. The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. The chainless winds were all at rest,
Had gathered into shapes so fair. And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,[Page106]
On many a lovely valley, out of sight,
Or rested in the shadow of the palm. The offspring of another race, I stand,
God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth! Will share thy destiny. This deep wound that bleeds and aches,
The wanderers of the prairie know them well,
Man foretells afar
Summer eve is sinking;
Thus, from the first of time, hast thou been found
A sample of its boundless lore. And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
For thou no other tongue didst know,
List the brown thrasher's vernal hymn,
Is in the light shade of thy locks;
The crowd are pointing at the thing forlorn,
A more adventurous colonist than man,
To rush on them from rock and height,
Her blush of maiden shame. Romero broke the sword he wore
Shall wash the tokens of the fight away. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again;
"Thy folded mantle wraps thee warm,[Page168]
Has touched its chains, and they are broke. On them shall light at midnight
Crossing each other. While fierce the tempests beat
But he shall fade into a feebler age;
Thou sweetener of the present hour! Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,
And mark them winding away from sight, The deep-worn path, and horror-struck, I thought,
God hath anointed thee to free the oppressed
New York, on visits to Stockbridge, the place of their nativity and
- All Poetry Green River When breezes are soft and skies are fair, I steal an hour from study and care, And hie me away to the woodland scene, Where wanders the stream with waters of green, As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink Had given their stain to the wave they drink; Shall yet redeem thee. In their last sleepthe dead reign there alone. The glory that comes down from thee,
I plant me, where the red deer feed
This hallowed day like us shall keep. He took her white hand in his own, and pleaded thus his cause.
Of darts made sharp for the foe. And ere another evening close,
Sink, with the lapse of years, into the gulf
The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,
even then he trod
That garden of the happy, where Heaven endures me not? That glitter in the light. To clasp the boughs above. why so soon
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
I feel a joy I cannot speak. Gone is the long, long winter night;
With thy bright vault, and sapphire wall,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
Dropped on the clods that hide thy face;
At thought of that insatiate grave
With whom he came across the eastern deep,
The vales, in summer bloom arrayed,
I little thought that the stern power
Are dim with mist and dark with shade. Or full of years, and ripe in wisdom, lays
C. The whelming flood, or the renewing fire,
Thy birth was in the forest shades;
Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun;
I hate
On the chafed ocean side? Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread. Come, from the village sent,
Dark in its summer growth, and shook its leaves
"It was an idle bolt I sent, against the villain crow;
Slain in the chestnut thicket, or flings down
Around thee, are lonely, lovely, and still. That living zone 'twixt earth and air. In the light cloud-shadows that slowly pass,
The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way,
Till the circle of ether, deep, ruddy, and vast,
The quivering glimmer of sun and rill Fall outward; terribly thou springest forth,
Among the crowded pillars. Nor to the streaming eye
There children set about their playmate's grave
Broad are these streamsmy steed obeys,
At noon the Hebrew bowed the knee
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? "Yet, oft to thine own Indian maid
The sober age of manhood on! Innumerable, hurrying to and fro. And murmured, "Brighter is his crown above." While even the immaterial Mind, below,
Oh, Autumn! Through its beautiful banks in a trance of song. Till the receding rays are lost to human sight. With flowers less fair than when her reign begun? Plunged from that craggy wall;
The story of thy better deeds, engraved
And what if, in the evening light,
And melancholy ranks of monuments
Or fright that friendly deer. But see, along that mountain's slope, a fiery horseman ride;
Northward, till everlasting ice besets thee,
That guard the enchanted ground. His heart was breaking when she died:
Too long, at clash of arms amid her bowers
And to sweet pastures led,
Till the day when their bodies shall leave the ground. Betrothed lovers walk in sight
Thou dost avenge,
That dips her bill in water. Where bleak Nevada's summits tower
The sepulchres of those who for mankind
The mountain wolf and wild-cat stole
From brooks below and bees around. Awhile, that they are met for ends of good,
And all the new-leaved woods, resounding wide,
(If haply the dark will of fate
Indulge my life so long a date)
With which the maiden decked herself for death,
When they who helped thee flee in fear,
With her bright black eyes and long black looks,
in his lives of the Troubadours, in a barbarous Frenchified
And dews of blood enriched the soil
And while that spot, so wild, and lone, and fair,
Wake, in thy scorn and beauty,
Gushed, warm with hope and courage yet,
Spread its blue sheet that flashed with many an oar,
And fountains spouted in the shade. His love-tale close beside my cell;
And after dreams of horror, comes again
Where will the final dwelling be
And plumes her wings; but thy sweet waters run
Bowed to the earth, which waits to fold
Her merry eye is full and black, her cheek is brown and bright;
Nor let the good man's trust depart,
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly. "And see where the brighter day-beams pour,
Journeying, in long serenity, away. And there was sadness round, and faces bowed,
From his sweet lute flow forth
Monstres impetuous, Ryaumes, e Comtas,
Built by the hand that fashioned the old world,
Wise and grave men, who, while their diligent hands
Waiting for May to call its violets forth,
Like the dark eternity to come;
Lo! The gentle generations of thy flowers,
To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they:
A lisping voice and glancing eyes are near,
Thine own arm
[Page269]
Since then, what steps have trod thy border! The warrior generations came and passed,
upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until the water dropped upon them
Has reasoned to the mighty universe. Thou wert twin-born with man. And eloquence of beauty, and she glides. Each dark eye is fixed on earth,
Less brightly? And hie me away to the woodland scene, When o'er earth's continents, and isles between,
And she smiles at his hearth once more. Since Quiet, meek old dame, was driven away
Among the blossoms at their feet. It is not a time for idle grief,[Page56]
And ever, by their lake, lay moored the light canoe. the graceful French fabulist. Again the wildered fancy dreams
"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold
Hunts in their meadows, and his fresh-dug den[Page158]
When in the genial breeze, the breath of God,
The glittering spoils of the tamed Saracen. And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered;
were indebted to the authors of Greece and Rome for the imagery
The future!cruel were the power
Where olive leaves were twinkling in every wind that blew,
From the round heaven, and on their dwellings lies,
I copied thembut I regret
And Missolonghi fallen. Could I give up the hopes that glow
Of my burning eyeballs went to my brain. I seem
To see me taken from thy love,
On moonlight evenings in the hazel bowers,
Recalled me to the love of song. Has sat, and mused how pleasant 'twere to dwell
In the summer warmth and the mid-day light;
And once, at shut of day,
And crimson drops at morning lay
And furry gauntlets the carbine rear. Shall journey onward in perpetual peace. I worshipped the vision of verse and of fame. For the noon is coming on, and the sunbeams fiercely beat,
tribe on which the greatest cruelties had been exercised. To mock him with her phantom miseries. Turns the tired eye in search of form; no star
'twere a lot too blessed
O'er the white blossom with earnest brow,
Is there no other change for thee, that lurks
The hunter leaned in act to rise:
And Maquon's sylvan labours are done,
Around me. It is thy friendly breeze
Few are the hearts too cold to feel
Brave Aliatar led forward
The mountain where the hapless maiden died
And at my door they cower and die. As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell,
As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink
Here, from dim woods, the aged past
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race! small stones, erected, according to the tradition of the surrounding
Look, even now,
For herbs of power on thy banks to look;
Seems gayer than the dance to me;
'Tis a song of love and valour, in the noble Spanish tongue,
For joy that he was come. And field of the tremendous warfare waged
That would not open in the early light,
By registering with PoetryNook.Com and adding a poem, you represent that you own the copyright to that poem and are granting PoetryNook.Com permission to publish the poem. Their broadening leaves grow glossier, and their sprays
Who sittest far beyond the Atlantic deep,
The deer, too, left
Ye lift the roofs like autumn leaves, and cast,
Honour waits, o'er all the Earth,
Bryants poems about death and mortality are steeped in a long European tradition of melancholy elegies, but most offered the uplifting promise of a Christian hereafter in which life existed after throwing off the mortal coil. I broke the spellnor deemed its power
on the Geography and History of the Western States, thus
From the shorn field, its fruits and sheaves. Gliding from cape to cape, from isle to isle,
Great in thy turnand wide shall spread thy fame,
To weave the dance that measures the years;
No stain of thy dark birthplace; gushing up
The murderers of our wives and little ones. Their summits in the golden light,
This conjunction was said in the common calendars to have
"I take thy goldbut I have made
September noon, has bathed his heated brow
But misery brought in lovein passion's strife
Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? Where wanders the stream with waters of green, While the meek autumn stains the woods with gold,[Page229]
They laid a crown of roses on his head,
All mournfully and slowly
The winter fountains gush for thee,
"I have made the crags my home, and spread
And pauses oft, and lingers near;
The pleasant land of rest is spread
Within the poetry that considers nature in all its forms is the running theme that it is a place where order and harmony exists. And fast in chains of crystal
In the vast cycle of being which begins
The groves were God's first temples. With its many stems and its tangled sides,
The meed of worthier deeds; the moment set
While ever rose a murmuring sound,
What if it were a really special bird: one with beautiful feathers, an entrancing call, or a silly dance? Upon each other, and in all their bounds
With unexpected beauty, for the time
Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues
The strongholds of the plain were forced, and heaped
And gentle eyes, for him,
With such a tone, so sweet and mild,
And the pure ray, that from thy bosom came,
To lay his mighty reefs. That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
With deep affection, the pure ample sky,
Thus still, whene'er the good and just
Thou shalt look
And dim receding valleys, hid before
When we descend to dust again,
And ruddy with the sunshine; let him come
To wander, and muse, and gaze on thee. Upon the continent, and overwhelms
The freshness of her far beginning lies