Poems by James Russell Lowell

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A Letter from a Candidate for the Presidency

Dear Sir—You wish to know my notions

On sartin pints thet rile the land;

There's nothin' thet my natur so shuns

Es bein' mum or underhand;

I'm a straight-spoken kind o' creetur

Thet blurts right out wut's in his head,

An' ef I've one pecooler feetur,

It is a nose thet wunt be led.

by James Russell Lowell

A Glance Behind The Curtain

We see but half the causes of our deeds,

Seeking them wholly in the outer life,

And heedless of the encircling spirit-world,

Which, though unseen, is felt, and sows in us

All germs of pure and world-wide purposes.

From one stage of our being to the next

We pass unconscious o'er a slender bridge,

The momentary work of unseen hands,

by James Russell Lowell

Flowers

O poet! above all men blest,

Take heed that thus thou store them;

Love, Hope, and Faith shall ever rest,

Sweet birds (upon how sweet a nest!)

Watchfully brooding o'er them.

And from those flowers of Paradise

Scatter thou many a blessed seed,

Wherefrom an offspring may arise

by James Russell Lowell

The Fountain Of Youth

'Tis a woodland enchanted!

By no sadder spirit

Than blackbirds and thrushes,

That whistle to cheer it

All day in the bushes.

This woodland is haunted:

And in a small clearing,

by James Russell Lowell

Impartiality

I cannot say a scene is fair

Because it is beloved of thee

But I shall love to linger there,

For sake of thy dear memory;

I would not be so coldly just

As to love only what I must.

I cannot say a thought is good

Because thou foundest joy in it;

by James Russell Lowell

May Is A Pious Fraud

MAY is a pious fraud of the almanac.

A ghastly parody of real Spring

Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind;

Or if, o'er-confident, she trust the date,

And, with her handful of anemones,

Herself as shivery, steal into the sun,

The season need but turn his hour-glass round,

And Winter suddenly, like crazy Lear,

by James Russell Lowell

Abraham Lincoln

Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,

Whom late the Nation he had led,

With ashes on her head,

Wept with the passion of an angry grief:

Forgive me, if from present things I turn

To speak what in my heart will beat and burn,

And hang my wreath on his world-honored urn.

Nature, they say, doth dote,

by James Russell Lowell

Love and Sorrow

I thought our love at full, but I did err;

Joy's wreath drooped o'er mine eyes; I could not see

That sorrow in our happy world must be

Love's deepest spokesman and interpreter.

But, as a mother feels her child first stir

Under her heart, so felt I instantly

Deep in my soul another bond to thee

Thrill with that life we saw depart from her.

by James Russell Lowell

A Prayer

God! do not let my loved one die,

But rather wait until the time

That I am grown in purity

Enough to enter thy pure clime,

Then take me, I will gladly go,

So that my love remain below!

Oh, let her stay! She is by birth

What I through death must learn to be;

by James Russell Lowell

For An Autograph

THOUGH old the thought and oft exprest,

'Tis his at last who says it best,

I'll try my fortune with the rest.

Life is a leaf of paper white

Whereon each one of us may write

His word or two, and then comes night.

'Lo, time and space enough,' we cry,

'To write an epic! ' so we try

by James Russell Lowell

The Fountain

Into the sunshine,

Full of the light,

Leaping and flashing

From morn till night!

Into the moonlight,

Whiter than snow,

Waving so flower-like

When the winds blow!

by James Russell Lowell

Love

Our love is not a fading earthly flower:

Its wingèd seed dropped down from Paradise,

And, nursed by day and night, by sun and shower,

Doth momently to fresher beauty rise.

To us the leafless autumn is not bare,

Nor winter's rattling boughs lack lusty green:

Our summer hearts make summer's fulness where

No leaf or bud or blossom may be seen:

by James Russell Lowell