The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendall Holmes: Earlier poemsD. Douglas, 1892 |
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arms ascending sun beneath BERKSHIRE FESTIVAL bids blaze blue blushing bosom breath bright brow burning CHARLES WENTWORTH UPHAM charm cheek clouds dark dark hunters dear Doctor dream dust earth echoing verse faded fancy flame flowers fold friends gale glance gleam glow golden golden reign grave green hand hear heart Heaven hills hour Katydid laugh leaf leaves light lips living long-tailed blues look lyre melt memory morning mountain Muse o'er once pale plain poem poet poet's proud song restless heart Rip Van Winkle roll rose round shadows shining brow shore side sigh silent skies slumbering smile soil song soul sparkling star stethoscope stream sweet tear tell thee thine thou thought thrills tide toast toil tone tower tread trembling Twas tyrant band wandered warm wave weary wild winds wine wings young
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Page 3 - THE LAST LEAF I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found 10 By the Crier on his round Through the town.
Page 5 - My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago— That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At...
Page 161 - Once more ; speak clearly, if you speak at all ; Carve every word before you let it fall...
Page 2 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee ; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The...
Page 83 - ... stained The rising mist of day. Hark ! hark ! I hear yon whistling shroud, I see yon quivering mast ; The black throat of the hunted cloud Is panting forth the blast ! An hour, and, whirled like winnowing chaff, The giant surge shall fling His tresses o'er yon pennon staff...
Page 84 - SLOWLY the mist o'er the meadow was creeping, Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun, When from his couch, while his children were sleeping, Rose the bold rebel and shouldered his gun. Waving her golden veil Over the silent dale, Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire ; Hushed was his parting sigh, While from his noble eye Flashed the last sparkle of liberty's fire. On the smooth green where the fresh leaf is springing Calmly the first-born of glory have met ; Hark ! the death-volley around...
Page 93 - And who was on the Catalogue When college was begun ? Two nephews of the President, And the Professor's son ; (They turned a little Indian by, As brown as any bun ;) Lord ! how the seniors knocked about The freshman class of one...
Page 32 - SONG. THE stars are rolling in the sky, The earth rolls on below, And we can feel the rattling wheel Revolving as we go. Then tread away, my gallant boys, And make the axle fly; Why should not wheels go round about, Like planets in the sky?
Page 14 - Long years have o'er her flown ; Yet still she strains the aching clasp That binds her virgin zone ; I know it hurts her, — though she looks As cheerful as she can ; Her waist is ampler than her life, For " life is but a span." My aunt, my poor deluded aunt ! Her hair is almost gray ; Why will she train that winter curl In such a spring-like way ? How can she lay her glasses down, And say she reads as well, When, through a double convex lens, She just makes out to spell...
Page 10 - LOVE to hear thine earnest voice, -•- Wherever thou art hid, Thou testy little dogmatist, Thou pretty Katydid ! Thou mindest me of gentlefolks, — Old gentlefolks are they, — Thou say'st an undisputed thing In such a solemn way. Thou art a female, Katydid ! I know it by the trill That quivers through thy piercing notes, So petulant and shrill ; I think there is a knot of you Beneath the hollow tree, — A knot of spinster Katydids, — Do Katydids drink tea...