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WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
Sustained and soothed
The stormy March has come at last,
With wind and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast
That through the snowy valley flies.
Her blush of maiden shame.
The Death of the Flowers.
The saddest of the year,
And meadows brown and sear.
The eternal years of God are hers;
And dies among his worshippers.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
The hand that rounded Peter's dome,
He builded better than he knew.
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon
Hymn. At the completion of the Concord Monument.
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
Marco Bozzaris. Strike for
altars and your fires ; Strike for the green graves of your sires ;
God, and your native land !
One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die.
On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake.
Friend of my better days ;
Nor named thee but to praise.
Shrines to no code or creed confined,
The Meccas of the mind.
Through life's dark zoad his sordid way he wends, An incarnation of fat dividends.
To my Cigar.
In learned doctors' spite;
And lap me in delight.
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
A Psalm of Life. Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
“Life is but an empty dream !” For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting. *
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.
* Life is short, and the art long.
HIPPOCRATES, (Aphorism I.)
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
The Light of Stars. Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
It is not always May.
There are no birds in last year's nest !
But one dead lamb is there!
But has one vacant chair.