William Cullen Bryant

And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
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Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?

And at my silent window-sill
The jessamine peeps in.

And at my silent window-sill
The jessamine peeps in.

I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came read more

I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
At rest within the ground,
'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June
When brooks send up a cheerful tune,
And groves a joyous sound,
The sexton's hand, my grave to make,
The rich, green mountain-turf should break.

Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest,
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders and white read more

Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest,
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders and white his crest.