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angel appeared beauty birds blow born breath bright child close cold comes dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall feel feet flowers give gold golden grow hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hold hope hour king land leaves light lips literary lives look Miss morning mother Nature never night o'er once pain passed past peace poems poet poetry published rest rose round seems shadows shine silent sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit spring stand stars strong summer sweet tears tell tender thee things thou thought true turn verse voice watch waves weary wide wild wind wings York young
103 psl. - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
103 psl. - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire...
21 psl. - I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journeywork of the stars, And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren, And the tree-toad is a...
22 psl. - AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.
21 psl. - I have said that the soul is not more than the body, 'And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's" self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud...
398 psl. - And inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me...
114 psl. - True worth is in being, not seeming; In doing each day that goes by. Some little good not in dreaming Of great things to do by and by. For whatever men say in their blindness. And spite of the fancies of youth. There's nothing so kingly as kindness. And nothing so royal as truth.
369 psl. - FAR in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
58 psl. - (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth). " The olde sea wall (he cried) is downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place.
370 psl. - You say the sun shines bright ; 1 feel him warm, but how can he Or make it day or night ? My day or night myself I make Whene'er I sleep or play ; And could I ever keep awake With me 'twere always day. With heavy sighs I often hear You mourn my hapless woe ; But sure with patience I can bear A loss I ne'er can know. Then let not...