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afternoon American amid army beauty birds blue bright clear close coming crowd dark dead death everywhere eyes face feel feet field four future give grass green ground half hand hospital human hundred land late latter leaves less light lines lived look March Michigan miles moon morning Nature nearly never night notes officers past perfect perhaps poems present rest river running scene seems seen sense sick side sight silent soldiers sometimes soul sound spirit stand stars street strong summer talk things thought thousand to-day trees vast walk ward whole wild wind woods wounded write York young
Page 146 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead thou me on. I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
Page 94 - There is scarcely any earthly object gives me more — I do not know if I should call it pleasure — but something which exalts me, something which enraptures me — than to walk in the sheltered side of a wood, or high plantation, in a cloudy winter day, and hear the stormy wind howling among the trees, and raving over the plain. It is my best season for devotion : my mind is wrapt up in a kind of enthusiasm to Him, who, in the pompous language of the Hebrew bard, ' walks on the wings of the wind.
Page 146 - LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home! Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene — one Step enough for me.
Page 256 - How beautiful is candor! All faults may be forgiven of him who has perfect candor. Henceforth let no man of us lie, for we have seen that openness wins the inner and outer world and that there is no single exception, and that never since our earth gathered itself in a mass have deceit or subterfuge or prevarication attracted its smallest particle...
Page 169 - Riches I hold in light esteem, And Love I laugh to scorn; And lust of fame was but a dream, That vanished with the morn: And if I pray, the only prayer That moves my lips for me Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear, And give me liberty!
Page 212 - ... opposite (as the sexes are opposite), and whose existence, confronting and ever modifying the other, often clashing, paradoxical, yet neither of highest avail without the other, plainly supplies to these grand cosmic politics of ours, and to the...
Page 189 - For feudalism, caste, the ecclesiastic traditions, though palpably retreating from political institutions, still hold essentially, by their spirit, even in this country, entire possession of the more important fields, indeed the very subsoil, of education, and of social standards and literature. I say that democracy can never prove itself beyond cavil, until it founds and luxuriantly grows its own forms of art, poems, schools, theology, displacing all that exists, or that has been produced anywhere...
Page 252 - To carry on the heave of impulse and pierce intellectual depths and give all subjects their articulations, are powers neither common nor very uncommon. But to speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the movements of animals, and the unimpeachableness of the sentiment...
Page 257 - The direct trial of him who would be the greatest poet is today. If he does not flood himself with the immediate age as with vast oceanic tides and if he does not attract his own land body...