The Park
The prosperous and beautiful To me seem not to wear The yoke of conscience masterful, Which galls me everywhere. I cannot shake off the god; On my neck he makes his seat; I look
Concord Hymn
Sung at the Completion of the Concord Monument, April 19th, 1836 By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the
The Bell
I love thy music, mellow bell, I love thine iron chime, To life or death, to heaven or hell, Which calls the sons of Time. Thy voice upon the deep The home-bound sea-boy hails,
Saadi
Trees in groves, Kine in droves, In ocean sport the scaly herds, Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks, Browse the mountain sheep in flocks, Men consort in camp
The Problem
I like a church, I like a cowl, I love a prophet of the soul, And on my heart monastic aisles Fall like sweet strains or pensive smiles; Yet not for all his faith
Loss And Gain
Virtue runs before the muse And defies her skill, She is rapt, and doth refuse To wait a painter’s will. Star-adoring, occupied, Virtue cannot bend her, Just to please a poet’s pride, To parade
The Rhodora
On being asked, Whence is the flower? In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert
Dæmonic Love
Man was made of social earth, Child and brother from his birth; Tethered by a liquid cord Of blood through veins of kindred poured, Next his heart the fireside band Of mother, father, sister,
Ode To William H. Channing
Though loth to grieve The evil time’s sole patriot, I cannot leave My buried thought For the priest’s cant, Or statesman’s rant. If I refuse My study for their politique, Which at the best
Compensation
Why should I keep holiday, When other men have none? Why but because when these are gay, I sit and mourn alone. And why when mirth unseals all tongues Should mine alone be dumb?
The Sphynx
The Sphynx is drowsy, Her wings are furled, Her ear is heavy, She broods on the world.? “Who’ll tell me my secret The ages have kept? ? I awaited the seer, While they slumbered
Astræ
Himself it was who wrote His rank, and quartered his own coat. There is no king nor sovereign state That can fix a hero’s rate; Each to all is venerable, Cap-a-pie invulnerable, Until he
Berrying
“May be true what I had heard, Earth’s a howling wilderness Truculent with fraud and force,” Said I, strolling through the pastures, And along the riverside. Caught among the blackberry vines, Feeding on the
Eros
The sense of the world is short, Long and various the report,- To love and be beloved; Men and gods have not outlearned it, And how oft soe’er they’ve turned it, ‘Tis not to
The Amulet
Your picture smiles as first it smiled, The ring you gave is still the same, Your letter tells, O changing child, No tidings since it came. Give me an amulet That keeps intelligence with