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Queries to My Seventieth Year

Approaching, nearing, curious, Thou dim, uncertain spectre—bringest thou life or death? Strength, weakness, blindness, more paralysis and heavier? Or placid skies and sun? Wilt stir the waters yet? Or haply cut me short for good? Or leave me here as…

Proud Music of the Storm

1   PROUD music of the storm, Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies, Strong hum of forest tree-tops—wind of the mountains, Personified dim shapes—you hidden orchestras, You serenades of phantoms with instruments alert, Blending with Nature’s rhythmus all…

Primeval my Love for the Woman I Love

Primeval my love for the woman I love, O bride! O wife! more resistless, more enduring than I can tell, the thought of you! Then separate, as disembodied, the purest born, The ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation, I…

Prayer of Columbus

A BATTER’D, wreck’d old man, Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home, Pent by the sea and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months, Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken’d and nigh to death, I take my way along the…

Portals

WHAT are those of the known but to ascend and enter the Unknown? And what are those of life but for Death?

Poets to Come

POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come! Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for, But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known, Arouse! for you must justify me.   I myself…

Poem of Remembrance for a Girl or a Boy

YOU just maturing youth! You male or female! Remember the organic compact of These States, Remember the pledge of the Old Thirteen thenceforward to the rights, life, liberty, equality of man, Remember what was promulged by the founders, ratified by…

Pioneers! O Pioneers!

COME my tan-faced children, Follow well in order, get your weapons ready, Have you your pistols? have you your sharp-edged axes? Pioneers! O pioneers!   For we cannot tarry here, We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of…

Pensive on Her Dead Gazing

PENSIVE on her dead gazing I heard the Mother of All, Desperate on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battle- fields gazing, (As the last gun ceased, but the scent of the powder-smoke linger’d,) As she call’d to her…