On Connecticut River (John Gardiner Calkins Brainard Poems)
From that lone lake the sweetest of the chainThat links the mountain to the mighty main,Fresh from the rock and ...
From that lone lake the sweetest of the chainThat links the mountain to the mighty main,Fresh from the rock and ...
I.The sun's beam and the moon's beam check the sea,The light wave smiles in both, and sportinglyCatching the silver on ...
WHERE streams of light, in golden showers,First fell on long lost Eden's bowers,And music, from the shouting skies,Wandered to Eve's ...
On the lake of young life is a fairy boat,Like the sweet new moon in a summer sky;Through a calm ...
FAR away from the hill side, the lake, and the hamlet,The rock, and the brook, and yon meadow so gay;From ...
I wish - 't is no concern of mine,But yet I wish that you would tryThe painter's brush, and trace ...
THE Sabbath morn came sweetly on,The sunbeams mildly shone uponEach rock, and tree, and flower;And floating on the southern gale,The ...
Bless thy bright face! though often blessed beforeBy raving maniac and by pensive fool;One would say something more- but who ...
To Miss - -.Other poets may muse on thy beauties, and singOf thy birds, and thy flowers, and thy perfumes, ...
An April snow! - 't is as the head of youthJust fresh'ning in the spring-time of its hopes,And glancing to ...
I am a jolly tree toad, upon a chestnut tree;I chirp, because I know that the night was made for ...
It rains. What lady loves a rainy day?Not she who puts prunella on her foot,Zephyrs around her neck, and silken ...
Green as Machpelah's honored field,Where Jacob and where Leah lie,Where Sharon's shrubs their roses yield,And Carmel's branches wave on high;So ...
I CAN but smile when others weep,I can but weep when others smile;O! let me in this bosom keepThe secret ...
'T IS morning on the sunny sod,Where lingering footsteps late have trod;'T is morning on the melting snow,That shrouds the ...
See to your book, young lady; let it beAn index to your life - each page be pure,By vanity uncolored, ...
Was I not served in open dayWith buds and flowers! - and whence came they?In the still night, as poets ...
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