The End of the Year, by Isaac McLellan
As a life-weary pilgrim sinks to his last repos...
Bird Poems
Florida Scenes and Sports, by Isaac McLellan
Here in my Northern home I love to muse,
Fair...
The Flying Fish, by Isaac McLellan
In Indian Ocean, or in seas
That dash their b...
Giraffe-Hunting in Central Africa, by Isaac McLellan
In far 'Mid-Africa, where woods
Illimitable w...
The Hillside Rivulet, by Isaac McLellan
An Eden haunt, a charming fairy grot,
The an...
The Little Chickadee Warbler of the Winter Woods, by Isaac McLellan
The brown chickadee still chirps on the tree,
...
Long Island in Late October, by Isaac McLellan
October's flaming banners, of purple and of go...
Nature's Invitation, by Isaac McLellan
O'er the fair face of Nature let us muse,
And...
Sea-Gull, by Isaac McLellan
Sea-Bird, skimmer of the waves,
Whither doth...
The Whippoorwill, by Isaac McLellan
When the glory of sunset fades in the skies
As...
Wildcat, by Isaac McLellan
Amid the wildernesses vast
That gird the Missi...
Poetry, by James McIntyre
Poetry to us is given,
As stars beautify the ...
Tiger and Elephant, by James McIntyre
On Ganges banks roams the tiger,
And lion rul...
The Singing Leaves, by James Russell Lowell
“ What fairings will ye that I bring?&rdq...
Fancy, by Jean Ingelow
O Fancy, if thou flyest, come back anon,
Th...
The Nightingale Heard by the Unsatisfied Heart, by Jean Ingelow
When in May-day hush
Chanteth the Missel-thrus...
Sand Martins, by Jean Ingelow
I passed an inland-cliff precipitate;
From ti...
The Battle Flag at Shenandoah, by Joaquin Miller
The tented field wore a wrinkled frown,
And t...
Odin Gets to See It All, by Jody Azzouni
Originally appeared in California Quarterly
Sp...
Kiss IX, by Johannes Secundus
Cease thy sweet, thy balmy Kisses;
Cease thy...
A Tragedy, by John Boyle O'Reilly
A soft-breasted bird from the sea
Fell in love...
Bobolink, by John Burroughs
Daisies, clover, buttercup,
Red-top, trefo...
Hepatica, by John Burroughs
When April's in her genial mood,
And leafy sm...
The Indigo-Bird, by John Burroughs
Oh, late to come but long to sing,
My little...
A March Glee, by John Burroughs
I hear the wild geese honking
From out the mis...