Read my works

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood,…

The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter "Little Prig;"…

In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,…