Dear Governor, if my skiff might brave The winds that lift the ocean wave, The mountain stream that loops and swerves Through my broad meadow's channelled curves Should waft me on from bound to bound...
Our Poet, who has taught the Western breeze To waft his songs before him o'er the seas, Will find them wheresoe'er his wanderings reach Borne on the spreading tide of English speech...
This is your month, the month of "perfect days," Birds in full song and blossoms all ablaze. Nature herself your earliest welcome breathes, Spreads every leaflet, every bower inwreathes;...
Friend, whom thy fourscore winters leave more dear Than when life's roseate summer on thy cheek Burned in the flush of manhood's manliest year, Lonely, how lonely! is the snowy peak...
You know "The Teacups," that congenial set Which round the Teapot you have often met; The grave DICTATOR, him you knew of old, - Knew as the shepherd of another fold...
Too young for love? Ah, say not so! Tell reddening rose-buds not to blow Wait not for spring to pass away, - Love's summer months begin with May! Too young for love? Ah, say not so!...
Well, Miss, I wonder where you live, I wonder what's your name, I wonder how you came to be In such a stylish frame; Perhaps you were a favorite child, Perhaps an only one;...
Her hands are cold; her face is white; No more her pulses come and go; Her eyes are shut to life and light; - Fold the white vesture, snow on snow, And lay her where the violets blow. ...
Eighty years have passed, and more, Since under the brave old tree Our fathers gathered in arms, and swore They would follow the sign their banners bore,...
Flag of the heroes who left us their glory, Borne through their battle-fields' thunder and flame, Blazoned in song and illumined in story, Wave o'er us all who inherit their fame! ...
"Only a housemaid!" She looked from the kitchen, - Neat was the kitchen and tidy was she; There at her window a sempstress sat stitching; "Were I a sempstress, how happy I'd be!" ...
I was thinking last night, as I sat in the cars, With the charmingest prospect of cinders and stars, Next Thursday is - bless me! - how hard it will be, If that cannibal president calls upon me! ...
The god looked out upon the troubled deep Waked into tumult from its placid sleep; The flame of anger kindles in his eye As the wild waves ascend the lowering sky;...