Poetry of America Author:William James Linton Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: POETRY OF AMERICA. 1776 To 1876. PHILIP FEENEAU.- - Born in New York City 1752—died 1832. THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE. (1782.) Fair flower, that dost so ... more »comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouch'd thy honey'd blossoms blow, Unseen thy little branches greet: No roving foot shall crush thee here, No busy hand provoke a tear. By Nature's self in white array'd, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, And planted here the guardian shade, And sent soft waters murmuring by: Thus quietly thy summer goes— Thy days declining to repose. Smit with those charms, that must decay, I grieve to see your future doom; They died—nor were those flowers more gay— The flowers that did in Eden bloom; Unpityirig frosts and Autumn's power Shall leave no vestige of this flower. From morning suns and evening dews At first thy little being came: If nothing once, you nothing lose, For when you die you are the same ; The space between is but an hour, The frail duration of a flower. THE INDIAN BUSYING GROUND. In spite of all the learn'd have said, I still my old opinion keep: The posture that we give the dead, Points out the soul's eternal sleep. Not so the ancients of these lands— The Indian, when from life released, Again is seated with his friends, And shares again the joyous feast. His imaged birds, and painted bowl, And venison, for a journey dress'd, Bespeak the nature of the soul, Activity, that knows no rest. His bow, for action ready bent, And arrows witb a head of stone, Can only mean that life is spent, And not the finer essence gone. Thou, Stranger! that shalt come this way, No fraud upon the dead commit; Observe the swelling turf, and say,— They do not lie, but here they sit. Here still a lofty rock remains, On...« less