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forts appear again, the old hoop'd guns are mounted, I see the lines of rais'd earth stretching from river

I saw him at the river-side, Down by the ferry lit by torches, hastening the embarcation; My General

copy the story, and send it eastward and westward, I must preserve that look as it beam'd on you rivers

take a serpentine course, their arms flash in the sun—hark to the musical clank, Behold the silvery river

baffled; Not the pathfinder penetrating inland weary and long, By deserts parch'd, snows chill'd, rivers

loudly shout in the rush of successful charge, Enter the captur'd works—yet lo, like a swift-running river

the pale green leaves of the trees prolific, In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river

and demerits, Making its cities, beginnings, events, diversities, wars, vocal in him, Making its rivers

the mothers of families, Read these leaves to myself in the open air, tried them by trees, stars, rivers

para- dises paradises of the Pacific, Populous cities, the latest inventions, the steamers on the rivers

vast native thoughts looking through smutch'd faces, Iron-works, forge-fires in the mountains or by river-banks

We primeval forests felling, We the rivers stemming, vexing we and piercing deep the mines within, We

These shows of the East and West are tame compared to you, These immense meadows, these interminable rivers

from the Altay moun- tains mountains , From Thibet Tibet , from the four winding and far-flowing rivers

Winds blowsouth, or winds blow north, Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

SKIRTING the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance

mass tight grappling, In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling, Till o'er the river

O dear to me my birth-things—all moving things and the trees where I was born—the grains, plants, rivers

, Dear to me my own slow sluggish rivers where they flow, distant, over flats of silvery sands or through

the jobbers' houses of business, the houses of business of the ship-merchants and money-brokers, the river-streets

sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft, The winter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice in the river

you airs that swim above lightly impalpable, And all you essences of soil and growth, and you my rivers

of this grim winter here, furious snow and wind howling, and I have not stirred out—the roads and rivers

The robins are just here, & the ice on the river is moving this afternoon, bag & baggage.

ohn] B[urroughs] is reading the proofs of new book Pepacton (the Indian name of a beautiful little river

you & George down a couple of big fresh ones, such as I see them bringing in every haul, from the river—A

seemed to be much greater even than usual—well I took some three hours of it—then slowly across the river

both—Things are going on pretty much the same with me as when I last wrote—that was an awful affair on the river

There was a "Kingdom of Heaven" established up the North River, with many disciples.

picture at the top is the house) —as I write (Sunday forenoon 11 o'clock) I look out on the Concord river—something

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

Day come white, or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains from home, Singing all time, minding

Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,) Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance

grappling, In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight down- ward downward falling, Till o'er the river

of clover and timothy, Kine and horses feeding, and droves of sheep and swine, And many a stately river

Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or white come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

, The eighteen thousand miles of sea-coast and bay-coast on the main, the thirty thousand miles of river

writing &c, very comfortable—shall now walk to the post office, & probably sail once or twice across the river

variety of meters suited to every slightest change of sentiment, here lilting like a smooth flowing river

chords left as by vast composers [gap] You formless, tree, religious dan[gap] Orient, You undertone of rivers

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

the pale green leaves of the trees prolific, In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river

primal man—the gigantic and multiplied possibilities of a continent of vast lakes and praries, and rivers

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

the pale green leaves of the trees prolific, In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river

Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white, or white come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

there atwixt the banks of the Arkansaw, the Rio Grande, the Nueces, the Brazos, the Tombigbee, the Red River

It is a land to which all the currents, and longings, and peoples of history move like rivers converging

vitreous form of the fall moon just tinged with blue: Earth of shine and dark, mottling the tide of the river

As for me, my heart is already gone over to the other side of the river, so that sometimes I feel a kind

this time but I will be down soon & tell you all the news —After I write this I am going out on the river

It has the aspect then of a river, not a lake; and at this point there is no snow—the ice being heaped

up into enormous ridges & pinnacles like a river when there is a long reach of rapids, only in the glacier

The wild, tossing confusion of the ice-river contrasted strangely with the absolute stillness and immoveability

& then go out & over the ferry to Philadelphia—I don't know what I should do without the ferry, & river

, & crossing, day & night—I believe my best times are nights—sometimes appear to have the river & boat

spent in the open air down in the country in the woods and fields, and by a secluded little New Jersey river—His

spent in the open air down in the country in the woods and fields, and by a secluded little New Jersey river

Starr'd Nights…Mulleins…A Sun-Bath—Nakedness…Human and Heroic New York…Hours for the Soul…Delaware River—Days

October 31 I am decidedly better—feel well as I write this—was out three hours to-day, crossing the river

Then was the time when it was his passion to sail the East River to and fro in the ferry boats, "often

Or again (p. 132): It was a happy thought to build the Hudson river railroad right along the shore.

spent portions of several seasons at a secluded haunt in New Jersey—Timber Creek, its stream (almost a river

River, a little after eight, full of ice, mostly broken, but some large cakes making our strong-timber'd

Winds blow south, or winds blow north, Day come white or night come black, Home, or rivers and mountains

The whole river is now spread with it—some immense cakes.

. once in a while, which I suppose you get—I came over to-night through the thick ice, filling the river—one

recluse and rural spot along Timber Creek, twelve or thirteen miles from where it enters the Delaware river

Who knows but that element, like the course of some subterranean river, dipping invisibly for a hundred

tells us that Grant's life "transcends Plutarch," that "it was a happy thought to build the Hudson River

comrades, With the life-long love of comrades, 'I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers

picturesqueness, and oceanic amplitude and rush of these great cities, the unsurpassed situation, rivers

Always, and more and more, as I cross the east and north rivers, the ferries, or with the pilots in their