I saw the constellated matin choir
Then when they sang together in the dawn,—
The morning stars of this first rounded day
Hesperian, hundred-houred, that ending leaves
Youth’s fillet still upon the New World’s brow;
Then when they sang together,—sang for...

Thou art mine, thou hast given thy word;
  Close, close in my arms thou art clinging;
  Alone for my ear thou art singing
A song which no stranger hath heard:
But afar from me yet, like a bird,
Thy soul, in some region unstirred,
  On its mystical...

    i have a little kinsman
Whose earthly summers are but three,
    And yet a voyager is he
    Greater than Drake or Frobisher,
    Than all their peers together!
    He is a brave discoverer,
    And, far beyond the tether
    Of them...

Just where the Treasury’s marble front
  Looks over Wall Street’s mingled nations;
Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont
  To throng for trade and last quotations;
Where, hour by hour, the rates of gold
  Outrival, in the ears of people,
The...

So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,—
  That story of Kearny who knew not to yield!
’T was the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney,
  Against twenty thousand he rallied the field.
Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest...

Look on this cast, and know the hand
  That bore a nation in its hold:
From this mute witness understand
  What Lincoln was,—how large of mould

The man who sped the woodman’s team,
  And deepest sunk the ploughman’s share,
And pushed the laden...

Soe, mistress Anne, faire neighbour myne,
  How rides a witche when nighte-winds blowe?
Folk saye that you are none too goode
To joyne the crewe in Salem woode,
When one you wot in gives the signe:
  Righte well, methinks, the pathe you knowe.

In...

Where ’s he that died o’ Wednesday?
  What place on earth hath he?
A tailor’s yard beneath, I wot,
  Where worms approaching be;
For the wight that died o’ Wednesday,
  Just laid the light below,
Is dead as the varlet turned to clay
  A...

That year? Yes, doubtless I remember still,—
  Though why take count of every wind that blows!
’T was plain, men said, that Fortune used me ill
  That year,—the self-same year I met with Rose.

Crops failed; wealth took a flight; house, treasure, land,
  ...

    mute, sightless visitant,
    From what uncharted world
Hast voyaged into Life’s rude sea,
      With guidance scant;
As if some bark mysteriously
Should hither glide, with spars aslant
      And sails all furled!

    In what...