Beyond the struggling lines that push his dread designs - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Wise words suppress the need of swords - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Too strange for fear, too vast for hope - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Our Lares shivered on the hearth - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Four fateful years of mortal strife - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Black festoons that stretch for miles - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Bells that toll of death and doom - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Lets bad instruments produce the best events - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
As greatest kings might die to gain - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Who seem so strangely out of place - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Wandering along a waste where once a city stood - Richard Henry Stoddard "The End of All" [Atlantic Monthly v.8 no.22, Aug. 1859]
A wind that blew a thousand years ago - Richard Henry Stoddard "The End of All" [Atlantic Monthly v.8 no.22, Aug. 1859]
The arrows of the early frost - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
In iron poverty and hopeless tears - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
And strained my sinews sore - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
One bud from off the tree of Earth - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Fruit from the ripening bough of Thought - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
And drag a chain for years - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Leave my eager foot-prints on the shore - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
A realm in some enchanted zone - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Distilled from asphodels - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
The peerless apples of the Hesperides - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
A swan and shadow floating down - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
The Year demands a sterner chaplet - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Moss and grasses cover their decay - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Beheld the Past before me - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Raised a cloud of dusty gold - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
And checked them with a tightened rein - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Sacred nymphs from temples near - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Conquering legions marched behind - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Below my feet the thunders break - Richard H. Stoddard "Shakespeare" [Happy Days for Boys and Girls, 1877]
Above my head the stars rejoice - Richard H. Stoddard "Shakespeare" [Happy Days for Boys and Girls, 1877]
The bitter wind has banished the silent nightingale - Richard Henry Stoddard "A Winter Scene"
The keepers of the roses have shut the garden-gate - Richard Henry Stoddard "A Winter Scene"
Compare it with the Present's golden page - R. H. Stoddard "The World" [Graham's Magazine v.XXXIV no.2, Feb. 1849]
Turn the old sands in the failing glass of Time - R. H. Stoddard "The World" [Graham's Magazine v.XXXIV no.2, Feb. 1849]
Poet's Wikipedia page.
Navigation Links:
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Wise words suppress the need of swords - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Too strange for fear, too vast for hope - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Our Lares shivered on the hearth - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Four fateful years of mortal strife - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Black festoons that stretch for miles - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Bells that toll of death and doom - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Lets bad instruments produce the best events - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
As greatest kings might die to gain - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Who seem so strangely out of place - Richard Henry Stoddard "Abraham Lincoln: An Horatian Ode"
Wandering along a waste where once a city stood - Richard Henry Stoddard "The End of All" [Atlantic Monthly v.8 no.22, Aug. 1859]
A wind that blew a thousand years ago - Richard Henry Stoddard "The End of All" [Atlantic Monthly v.8 no.22, Aug. 1859]
The arrows of the early frost - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
In iron poverty and hopeless tears - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
And strained my sinews sore - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
One bud from off the tree of Earth - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Fruit from the ripening bough of Thought - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
And drag a chain for years - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Leave my eager foot-prints on the shore - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
A realm in some enchanted zone - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Distilled from asphodels - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
The peerless apples of the Hesperides - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
A swan and shadow floating down - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
The Year demands a sterner chaplet - R.H. Stoddard "Ode [The days are growing chill]"
Moss and grasses cover their decay - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Beheld the Past before me - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Raised a cloud of dusty gold - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
And checked them with a tightened rein - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Sacred nymphs from temples near - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Conquering legions marched behind - R.H. Stoddard "Rome"
Below my feet the thunders break - Richard H. Stoddard "Shakespeare" [Happy Days for Boys and Girls, 1877]
Above my head the stars rejoice - Richard H. Stoddard "Shakespeare" [Happy Days for Boys and Girls, 1877]
The bitter wind has banished the silent nightingale - Richard Henry Stoddard "A Winter Scene"
The keepers of the roses have shut the garden-gate - Richard Henry Stoddard "A Winter Scene"
Compare it with the Present's golden page - R. H. Stoddard "The World" [Graham's Magazine v.XXXIV no.2, Feb. 1849]
Turn the old sands in the failing glass of Time - R. H. Stoddard "The World" [Graham's Magazine v.XXXIV no.2, Feb. 1849]
Poet's Wikipedia page.
Navigation Links:
Go to S author index.
Go to author indices.
Go to word indices.
Go to category indices.