A lesser proof than old Voltaire's, yet greater, Proof of this present time, and thee, thy broad expanse, America, To my plain Northern hut, in outside clouds and snow, Brought safely for a thousand miles o'er land and tide, Some three days since on their own soil live-sprouting, Now here their sweetness through my room unfolding, A bunch of orange buds by mail from Florida. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 21 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON HAD I THE CHOICE (AFTER WALT WHITMAN) by GEORGE SANTAYANA MOTHER NATURE by EMILY DICKINSON MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 8 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 31 by PHILIP SIDNEY SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 10. LONELY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE BURIAL OF THE DANE by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL LAST DAYS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |