29 quotes
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
Poems (1847)
There are two laws discrete
Not reconciled,
Law for man, and law for thing.
Poems (1847)
For what are they all in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?
Poems (1847)
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun;
Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk.
Poems (1847)
Out from the heart of Nature rolled
The burdens of the Bible old.
Poems (1847)
The silent organ loudest chants
The master's requiem.
Poems (1847)
Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent:
All are needed by each one,
Nothing is fair or good alone.
Poems (1847)
Go where he will, the wise man is at home,
His hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome.
Poems (1847)
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon
As the best gem upon her zone.
Poems (1847)
Good bye, proud world! I'm going home;
Thou art not my friend; I am not thine.
Poems (1847)
But all sorts of things and weather
Must be taken in together
To make up a year,
And a sphere.
Poems (1847)
Seeing only what is fair,
Sipping only what is sweet,
Thou dost mock at fate and care.
Poems (1847)
Life is too short to waste
The critic bite or cynic bark,
Quarrel, or reprimand;
'Twill soon be dark;
Up! mind thine own aim, and
God speed the mark!
Poems (1847)
Olympian bards who sung
Divine ideas below,
Which always find us young
And always keep us so.
Poems (1847)
Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.
Poems (1847)
Not from a vain or shallow thought
His awful Jove young Phidias brought.
Poems (1847)
Each the herald is who wrote
His rank, and quartered his own coat.
There is no king nor sovereign state
That can fix a hero's rate.
Poems (1847)
The horseman serves the horse,
The neatherd serves the neat,
The merchant serves the purse,
The eater serves his meat;
'Tis the day of the chattel,
Web to weave, and corn to grind;
Things are in the saddle,
And ride mankind.
Poems (1847)
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the muse;
Nothing refuse.
Poems (1847)
Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that, if eyes were made for seeing,
Then beauty is its own excuse for Being.
Poems (1847)