A-D E-H I-L M-O P-S T-V W-Z
Ah, ’tis in vain the peaceful din
Among the worst of men that ever lived
At midnight’s hour I raised my head
Between the traveller and the setting sun
Brother where dost thou dwell?
But now “no war nor battle’s sound.”
Conscience is instinct bred in the house
Each more melodious note I hear
Except, returning, by the Marlboro
For though the eaves were rabitted
Forever in my dream & in my morning thought
Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelf
Greater is the depth of sadness
Have ye no work for a man to do
He knows no change who knows the true
I am bound, I am bound, for a distant shore
I do not fear my thoughts will die
I have rolled near some other spirits path
I have seen some frozenfaced Connecticut
I mark the summer’s swift decline
I sailed up a river with a pleasant wind
I saw a delicate flower had grown up 2 feet high
I was born upon thy bank river
I will obey the strictest law of love
I’m guided in the darkest night
I’m thankful that my life doth not deceive
I’ve heard my neighbor’s pump at night
If from your price ye will not swerve
In the busy streets, domains of trade
Ive searched my faculties around
Ive seen ye, sisters, on the mountain-side
Last night as I lay gazing with shut eyes
Methinks that by a strict behavior
My friends, my noble friends, know ye —
My friends, why should we live?
My life has been the poem I would have writ
Not unconcerned Wachusett rears his head
On fields oer which the reaper’s hand has passed
On Ponkawtasset, since, we took our way
On shoulders whirled in some eccentric orbit
On the Sun Coming Out in the Afternoon
Only the slave knows of the slave
Pens to mend, and hands to guide
Pray to what earth does this sweet cold belong
Sometimes I hear the veery’s clarion
Strange that so many fickle gods
Such water do the gods distill
T will soon appear if we but look
Tell me ye wise ones if ye can
The deeds of king and meanest hedger
The Echo of the Sabbath Bell — heard in the Woods
The moon moves up her smooth and sheeny path
The moon now rises to her absolute rule
The sluggish smoke curls up from some deep dell
Then spend an age in whetting thy desire
They who prepare my evening meal below
Tis very fit the ambrosia of the gods
To day I climbed a handsome rounded hill
True kindness is a pure divine affinity
Truth — Goodness — Beauty — those celestial thrins
Until at length the north winds blow
Wait not till slaves pronounce the word
We should not mind if on our ear there fell
When breathless noon hath paused on hill and vale
When with pale cheek and sunken eye I sang
Where’er thou sail’st who sailed with me
Who equallest the coward’s haste
Who sleeps by day and walks by night
Within the circuit of this plodding life
Ye do command me to all virtue ever
Yet let us Thank the purblind race
You Boston folks & Roxbury people