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to it as to a shrine; and when it shall fall, if fall it must, the memory and the name of Washington shall shed an eternal glory on the spot.
Oration on the Character of Washington.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 1794–1878.
The Ages. xxxiii.
Thanatopsis. Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
Ibid. The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun.
Ibid. Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
Ibid. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Ibid. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves 1 To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
1 The edition of 1821 read,
The innumerable caravan that moves
The groves were God's first temples. A Forest Hymn.
The stormy March has come at last,
With winds and clouds and changing skies;
That through the snowy valley flies. March.
But ’neath yon crimson tree
Autumn Woods. The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
The Death of the Flowers. And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
A Scene on the banks of the Hudson.
The eternal years of God are hers;
And dies among his worshippers.
JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 1795–1820.
When Freedom from her mountain-height
Unfurled her standard to the air,
And set the stars of glory there.
And striped its pure, celestial white
By angel hånds to valour given !
And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Where breathes the foc but falls before us,
The American Flag.
JOHN KEATS. 1795-1821.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Endymion. Book 1.
I bade good-morrow,
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
Book iv. So many, and so many, and such glee.
Ibid. Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is — Love, forgive us ! - cinders, ashes, dust.
Lamia. Part in
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven:
Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
The Eve of St. Agnes The silver snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
Asleep in lap of legends old.
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing.
Stanza 18. As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.
Stanza 27. And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon. Stanza 30.
He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
That large utterance of the early gods!
Hyperion. Book i.
Those green-robed senators of mighty woods,
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
Dance and Provençal song and suburnt inirth!
Ode to a Nightingaie
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home
The same that ofttiines hath
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
Ode un a Grecian Urn. Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on, -
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Addressed to Haydon. Sonnetic Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne,
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
When a new planet swims into his ken ;
He stared at the Pacific, and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surinise, Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
On first looking into Chapman's Homer
E’en like the passage of an angel's tear
To One who has been long in City pent.