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Category Poets

Ashes of Soldiers

ASHES of soldiers South or North, As I muse retrospective murmuring a chant in thought, The war resumes, again to my sense your shapes, And again the advance of the armies.   Noiseless as mists and vapors, From their graves in…

As They Draw to a Close

AS they draw to a close, Of what underlies the precedent songs—of my aims in them, Of the seed I have sought to plant in them, Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them, (For them, for them have…

As the Time Draws Nigh

1   1As the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud, A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.   2I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some…

As the Greek’s Signal Flame

As the Greek’s signal flame, by antique records told, Rose from the hill-top, like applause and glory, Welcoming in fame some special veteran, hero, With rosy tinge reddening the land he’d served, So I aloft from Mannahatta’s ship-fringed shore, Lift…

AS one by one withdraw the lofty actors

I. AS one by one withdraw the lofty actors From that great play on history’s stage eterne, That lurid, partial act of war and peace—of old and new contending, Fought out through wrath, fears, dark dismays, and many a long suspense,…

As If a Phantom Caress’d Me

As if a phantom caress’d me, I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore; But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore—the one I loved, that caress’d me, As I…

As I Watch the Ploughman Ploughing

AS I watch’d the ploughman ploughing, Or the sower sowing in the fields, or the harvester harvesting, I saw there too, O life and death, your analogies; (Life, life is the tillage, and Death is the harvest according.)

As I Walk These Broad Majestic Days

As I walk these broad majestic days of peace, (For the war, the struggle of blood finish’d, wherein, O terrific Ideal, Against vast odds erewhile having gloriously won, Now thou stridest on, yet perhaps in time toward denser wars, Perhaps…

As I Sit Writing Here

As I sit writing here, sick and grown old, Not my least burden is that dulness of the years, querilities, Ungracious glooms, aches, lethargy, constipation, whimpering ennui, May filter in my daily songs.