Occupation: Poet Birth: February 22, 1819 Death: August 12, 1891
No price is set on the lavish summer; June may be had by the poorest comer..
Tiny Salmoneus of the air His mimic bolts the firefly threw..
The intellect has only one failing, which, to be sure, is a very considerable one. It has no conscience..
Whoever can endure unmixed delight, whoever can tolerate music and painting and poetry all in one, whoever wishes to be rid of thought and to let the….
Though old the thought and oft exprest, Tis his at last who says it best..
[B]ut in literature, it should be remembered, a thing always becomes his at last who says it best, and thus makes it his own..
Not but wut abstract war is horrid, I sign to thet with all my heart, But civilysation doos git forrid Sometimes, upon a powder-cart..
Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,- Yet that scaffold sways the Future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within t….
Puritanism, believing itself quick with the seed of religious liberty, laid, without knowing it, the egg of democracy..
So we're all right, an' I, for one, Don't think our cause'll lose in vally By rammin' Scriptur' in our gun, An' gittin' Natur' for an ally..
With every step of the recent traveler our inheritance of the wonderful is diminished. Those beautiful pictured notes of the possible are redeemed at….
To genius life never grows commonplace..
In the earliest ages science was poetry, as in the later poetry has become science..
The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me..
Freedom is the only law which genius knows..
It is mediocrity which makes laws and sets mantraps and spring-guns in the realm of free song, saying thus far shalt thou go and no further..
The fireflies o'er the meadow In pulses come and go..
There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat..
I don't believe in princerple, But oh I du in interest..
The eye is the notebook of the poet..
Like streams that keep a summer mind Snow-hid in Jenooary..