“$5 for
Mr. Ralph Waldo
Emerson
plus oats
for his
horse

(the first
time
any man
was paid
for a speech)

Approved,
Ebenezer
Grasshopper,
Town Clerk,
March the 9th,
1826,
Milbury, Mass”

I know him not my mither dear
Youre always in his way
But when you're gone he's always here
Aye thretty times a day
He's always asking ‘Whats o Clock?’
And what we aynt to lend
Hes some strange loon a come to mock
If not my mothers friend.

Guess not so rude uncouthly chield
He's maybe led astray
Wi thy white bosom let me feel't
If that will aught betray
She saw her wark was slowly done
No thread spun frae the rock
She own'd blood red the tell tale sun
Saw kisses near the clock.

And when he kissed me aince mither

Swell me a bowl with lusty wine,
Till I may see the plump Lyaeus swim
Above the brim:
I drink as I would write,
In flowing measure filled with flame and sprite.
(from Poetaster)

If Ifreely may discover,
What would please me in my lover:
I would have her fair, and witty,
Savouring more of court than city;
A little proud, but full of pity;
Light and humourous in her toying,
Oft building hopes, and soon destroying,
Long, but sweet in the enjoying;
Neither too easy nor too hard:
All extremes I would have barred.

She should be allowed her passions,
So they were but used as fashions;
Sometimes froward, and then frowning,
Sometimes sickish, and then swowning,
Every fit with change still crowning.

Night deepen'd round me on those upland slopes;
The phosphor dome of heaven diffused its green
And failing glow; yet all the ghostly hills
Loom'd through the dusk distinctly. On the loose
And yielding soil of some fresh-furrow'd field,
Uncertain, lost, I fared, then, stricken, paused;
For, lo, the dread arc of a flaming disc
Rose o'er the hill, as if an angry eye
Unfolded, loom'd—unradiating, red—
And with an awful aspect seem'd to watch
My doubting steps!
Unwittingly—I thought—
Here have I stepp'd perchance on ghostly ground,

Up the hill to Holton is a merry climb;
I have walked to Holton many is the time:
Dew upon the grasses, roses by the road,
Till you never notice if you have a load.

Down the hill from Holton is a merry way,
Coming home from Holton at the close of day:
Straight ahead the sunset, straight ahead the stars,
And the beacon burning at the open bars.

Up the hill to forty was a merry tramp:
Daisies on the hillside, lilies in the damp,
Friends to walk beside me all the busy years,
Sharing of my laughter, sharing of my tears.

Let faire or foule my Mistresse be,
Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me:
Or let her walk, or stand, or sit,
The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it.
Or let her tongue be still, or stir,
Gracefull is ev'ry thing from her.
Or let her Grant, or else Deny,
My Love will fit each Historie.

I wonder did you ever count
The value of one human fate;
Or sum the infinite amount
Of one heart's treasures, and the weight
Of Life's one venture, and the whole concentrate purpose of a soul.

And if you ever pause to think
That all this in your hands I laid
Without a fear:—did you not shrink
From such a burden? half afraid,
Half wishing that you could divide the risk, or cast it all aside.

While Love has daily perils, such
As none foresee and none control;
And hearts are strung so that one touch,
Careless or rough, may jar the whole,

Under the crosses white on a foreign meadow
Mute they are lying who marched in the spring-sweet sun.
Nothing is here of the life, the joy, the loving,
Before a war was won.

Under the crosses white on a foreign meadow
Mute they are lying who marched in the spring-sweet sun.
Nothing is here of the life, the joy, the loving,
Before a war was won.

On a hill-top, divested of trouble, I rested,
One blue, starry night,
In a fair eastern chamber, where vines strove to clamber
And play in the light.
There star-beams, uncertain, crept down through a curtain
Of thin, airy fleece;
There, veiling her brightness in silvery whiteness,
The moonlight, caressing, stole in with a blessing,
To the chamber called Peace.

The mountains surrounding, with radiance abounding,
In the broad blaze of day,
Encircled my spirit, to strengthen and cheer it,
When the night-purple lay