May-Day (Ralph Waldo Emerson Poems)
Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring,With sudden passion languishing,Maketh all things softly smile,Painteth pictures mile on mile,Holds a cup ...
Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring,With sudden passion languishing,Maketh all things softly smile,Painteth pictures mile on mile,Holds a cup ...
A JOURNAL.DEDICATED TO MY FELLOW-TRAVELLERS IN AUGUST, 1858.Wise and polite,--and if I drewTheir several portraits, you would ownChaucer had no ...
Man was made of social earth,Child and brother from his birth;Tethered by a liquid cordOf blood through veins of kindred ...
IIf thou canst bearStrong meat of simple truthIf thou durst my words compareWith what thou thinkest in my soul's free ...
O tenderly the haughty dayFills his blue urn with fire;One morn is in the mighty heaven,And one in our desire.The ...
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,Seems nowhere to alight: the whited ...
When I was born, From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice, Saying, This be thy portion, child; ...
Trees in groves, Kine in droves, In ocean sport the scaly herds, Wedge-like cleave the air the birds, To northern ...
IT fell in the ancient periods Which the brooding soul surveys, Or ever the wild Time coin'd itself Into calendar ...
Seek not the Spirit, if it hide, Inexorable to thy zeal: Baby, do not whine and chide; Art thou not ...
Bring me wine, but wine which never grew In the belly of the grape, Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, ...
Man was made of social earth, Child and brother from his birth; Tethered by a liquid cord Of blood through ...
Virtue runs before the muse And defies her skill, She is rapt, and doth refuse To wait a painter's will. ...
Venus, when her son was lost, Cried him up and down the coast, In hamlets, palaces, and parks, And told ...
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Of thee, from the hill-top looking down; And the heifer, that lows ...
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: ...
If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the ...
Who gave thee, O Beauty! The keys of this breast, Too credulous lover Of blest and unblest? Say when in ...
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