Six of us once, my darlings, played together Beneath green boughs, which faded long ago, Made merry in the golden summer weather, Pelted each other with new-fallen snow. ...
You with the hawk's eyes and the nerves of steel, How was it with you when the hurried word Roused you and sent you swiftly forth to deal A blow for justice? Sure your pulses stirred,...
When April woke the drowsy flowers, And vagrant odours thronged the breeze, And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, And daisies flashed along the leas, And faint arbutus strove among...
In time of life I graced ye with my verse; Do now your flowery honours to my hearse. You shall not languish, trust me; virgins here Weeping shall make ye flourish all the year.
Loving friend, the gift of one, Who, her own true faith, hath run, Through thy lower nature; Be my benediction said With my hand upon thy head, Gentle fellow-creature! ...
I heard that you ask'd for something to prove this puzzle, the New World, And to define America, her athletic Democracy; Therefore I send you my poems, that you behold in them what you wanted.
Whilst I in prison or in court look down, Nor beg thy favour nor deserve thy frown, In vain malicious Fortune hast thou tried By taking from my state to quell my pride:...
Tumble me down, and I will sit Upon my ruins, smiling yet; Tear me to tatters, yet I'll be Patient in my necessity. Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun Me, as a fear'd infection;...
Thou wouldst be loved? then let thy heart From its present pathway part not; Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways,...
Walls separate us. Strange spider webs. But I often fly, gaunt in my sinking Hand wringing room, a bleeding chirping twit. If only you were there. I am so murdered....
Thou wouldst be loved? then let thy heart From its present pathway part not! Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways,...
Oh, Fuscus, he whose life is pure and upright, Wants not the Moorish javelin nor the bow, Nor may he need the quiver, heavy laden With arrows poisoned for the lurking foe....
Let us be drunk, and for a while forget, Forget, and, ceasing even from regret, Live without reason and despite of rhyme, As in a dream preposterous and sublime,...
Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song; Nor can remembrance, Mathew! bring to view A fate more pleasing, a delight more true...