Ode

I
i am the spirit of the morning sea;
I am the awakening and the glad surprise;
I fill the skies
With laughter and with light.
Not tears, but jollity
At birth of day brim the strong man-child’s eyes.
Behold the white
Wide three-fold...

O white and midnight sky! O starry bath!
Wash me in thy pure, heavenly, crystal flood;
Cleanse me, ye stars, from earthly soil and scath;
Let not one taint remain in spirit or blood!
Receive my soul, ye burning, awful deeps;
Touch and baptize me with the...

I
not from the whole wide world I chose thee,
  Sweetheart, light of the land and the sea!
The wide, wide world could not inclose thee,
  For thou art the whole wide world to me.

II
Years have flown since I knew thee first,
  And I know...

This bronze doth keep the very form and mould
Of our great martyr’s face. Yes, this is he:
That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
Like some harsh landscape all the summer’s gold;
That spirit fit for sorrow,...

What is a sonnet? ’T is the pearly shell
That murmurs of the far-off murmuring sea;
A precious jewel carved most curiously;
It is a little picture painted well.
What is a sonnet? ’T is the tear that fell
From a great poet’s hidden ecstasy;
A two-...

What domes and pinnacles of mist and fire
  Are builded in yon spacious realms of light
All silently, as did the walls aspire
  Templing the ark of God by day and night!
Noiseless and swift, from darkening ridge to ridge,
Through purple air that deepens...

Glory and honor and fame and everlasting laudation
For our captains who loved not war, but fought for the life of the nation;
Who knew that, in all the land, one slave meant strife, not peace;
Who fought for freedom, not glory; made war that war might cease.

...

Yes, i have heard the nightingale.
    As in dark woods I wandered,
    And dreamed and pondered,
    A voice passed by all fire
    And passion and desire;
    I rather felt than heard
    The song of that lone bird:
Yes, I have heard the...

When late I heard the trembling cello play,
In every face I read sad memories
That from dark, secret chambers where they lay
Rose, and looked forth from melancholy eyes.
So every mournful thought found there a tone
To match despondence: sorrow knew its...

Her voice was like the song of birds;
    Her eyes were like the stars;
Her little waving hands were like
    Birds’ wings that beat the bars.

And when those waving hands were still,—
    Her soul had fled away,—
The music faded from the air,...