Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.

Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the God read more

Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the God of storms,
The lightning and the gale.

Thou art a female, Katydid!
I know it by the trill
That quivers through thy piercing notes
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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?

Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy read more

Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy lies the heads of all that rule,
His worst of all whose kingdom is a school.
Supreme he sits; before the awful frown
That binds his brows the boldest eye goes down;
Not more submissive Israel heard and saw
At Sinai's foot the Giver of the Law.

Sweet shadows of twilight! how calm their repose,
While the dewdrops fall soft in the breast of the rose!
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Sweet shadows of twilight! how calm their repose,
While the dewdrops fall soft in the breast of the rose!
How blest to the toiler his hour of release
When the vesper is heard with its whisper of peace!