A Metrical Essay.
Trees as we see them, love them, adore them in the fields, where they are alive, holding their green sunshades over our heads, talking to us with their hundred thousand whispering tongues, looking down on us with that sweet meekness which belongs to huge but limited organisms.—The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table.
Unscathed, she treads the wreck-piled street
Whose narrow gaps afford
A pathway for her bleeding feet,
To seek her absent lord.
Agnes.
Virtue—the guide that men and nations own;
And Law—the bulwark that protects her throne;