Fitz Adam’s Story (James Russell Lowell Poems)
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tellWas one whom men, before they thought, loved well,And after thinking wondered ...
I.AGASSIZ Come Dicesti _egli ebbe?_ non viv' egli ancora? Non fiere gli occhi suoi lo dolce lome?IThe electric nerve, whose ...
I don't much s'pose, hows'ever I should plen it,I could git boosted into th' House or Sennit,--Nut while the twolegged ...
Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood,Gypsy, whose roof is every spreading tree,June is the pearl of our New England ...
Entranced I saw a vision in the cloudThat loitered dreaming in yon sunset sky,Full of fair shapes, half creatures of ...
Somewhere in India, upon a time,(Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse,) There dwelt two saints whose privilege sublimeIt ...
The cordage creaks and rattles in the wind,With whims of sudden hush; the reeling seaNow thumps like solid rock beneath ...
At An Extrumpery Caucus In State Street, Reported By Mr. H. BiglowNo? Hez he? He haint, though? Wut? Voted agin ...
What know we of the world immenseBeyond the narrow ring of sense?What should we know, who lounge aboutThe house we ...
DEAR SIR,--Your letter come to han' Requestin' me to please be funny;But I ain't made upon a plan Thet knows wut's comin', ...
How A Student In Search Of The Beautiful Fell Asleep In Dresden Over Herr Professor Doctor Vischer's Wissenschaft Des Schoenen, ...
Ye who, passing graves by night,Glance not to the left or right,Lest a spirit should arise,Cold and white, to freeze ...
I sat one evening in my room, In that sweet hour of twilightWhen blended thoughts, half light, half gloom, Throng through the ...
ISome sort of heart I know is hers,-- I chanced to feel her pulse one night;A brain she has that never ...
A BALLADI'What fairings will ye that I bring?' Said the King to his daughters three;'For I to Vanity Fair am bound,Now ...
At Carnac in Brittany, close on the bay,They show you a church, or rather the grayRibs of a dead one, ...
The dandelions and buttercupsGild all the lawn; the drowsy beeStumbles among the clover-tops,And summer sweetens all but me:Away, unfruitful lore ...
'Come forth!' my catbird calls to me, 'And hear me sing a cavatinaThat, in this old familiar tree, Shall hang a garden ...
It mounts athwart the windy hill Through sallow slopes of upland bare,And Fancy climbs with foot-fall still Its narrowing curves that end ...
Dear Wendell, why need count the years Since first your genius made me thrill,If what moved then to smiles or tears, Or ...
With what odorous woods and spicesSpared for royal sacrifices,With what costly gums seld-seen,Hoarded to embalm a queen,With what frankincense and ...
Ere pales in Heaven the morning star, A bird, the loneliest of its kind,Hears Dawn's faint footfall from afar While all its ...
That's a rather bold speech, my Lord Bacon, For, indeed, is't so easy to knowJust how much we from others have ...
Who does his duty is a question Too complex to be solved by me,But he, I venture the suggestion, Does part of ...
Like some lorn abbey now, the wood Stands roofless in the bitter air;In ruins on its floor is strewed The carven foliage ...
Still thirteen years: 'tis autumn now On field and hill, in heart and brain;The naked trees at evening sough;The leaf to ...
When the down is on the chinAnd the gold-gleam in the hair,When the birds their sweethearts winAnd champagne is in ...
While the slow clock, as they were miser's gold,Counts and recounts the mornward steps of Time,The darkness thrills with conscience ...
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