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Best Famous Philip Freneau Poems

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by Philip Freneau | |

On Retirement

 A HERMIT'S house beside a stream
 With forests planted round,
Whatever it to you may seem
More real happiness I deem
 Than if I were a monarch crowned.
A cottage I could call my own Remote from domes of care; A little garden, walled with stone, The wall with ivy overgrown, A limpid fountain near, Would more substantial joys afford, More real bliss impart Than all the wealth that misers hoard, Than vanquished worlds, or worlds restored-- Mere cankers of the heart! Vain, foolish man! how vast thy pride, How little can your wants supply!-- 'Tis surely wrong to grasp so wide-- You act as if you only had To triumph--not to die!


by Philip Freneau | |

The Wild Honey-Suckle

 Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet;
.
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No roving foot shall crush thee here, .
.
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No busy hand provoke a tear.
By Nature's self in white arrayed, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, And planted here the gaurdian shade, And sent soft waters murmuring by; .
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Thus quietly thy summer goes, .
.
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Thy days declinging to repose.
Smit with those charms, that must decay, I grieve to see your future doom; They died--nor were those flowers more gay, The flowers that did in Eden bloom; .
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Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power .
.
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Shall leave no vestige of this flower.
From morning suns and evenign dews At first thy little being came: If nothing once, you nothing lose, For when you die you are the same; .
.
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The space between, is but an hour, .
.
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The frail duration of a flower.


by Philip Freneau | |

The Vernal Age

 WHERE the pheasant roosts at night,
Lonely, drowsy, out of sight,
Where the evening breezes sigh
Solitary, there stray I.
Close along the shaded stream, Source of many a youthful dream, Where branchy cedars dim the day There I muse, and there I stray.
Yet, what can please amid this bower, That charmed the eye for many an hour! The budding leaf is lost to me, And dead the bloom on every tree.
The winding stream, that glides along, The lark, that tunes her early song, The mountain's brow, the sloping vale, The murmuring of the western gale, Have lost their charms!--the blooms are gone! Trees put a darker aspect on, The stream disgusts that wanders by, And every zephyr brings a sigh.
Great guardian of our feeble kind!-- Restoring Nature, lend thine aid! And o'er the features of the mind Renew those colors, that must fade, When vernal suns forbear to roll, And endless winter chills the soul.


by Philip Freneau | |

Song of Thyrsis

 THE turtle on yon withered bough,
That lately mourned her murdered mate,
Has found another comrade now--
Such changes all await!
Again her drooping plume is drest,
Again she's willing to be blest
And takes her lover to her nest.
If nature has decreed it so With all above, and all below, Let us like them forget our woe, And not be killed with sorrow.
If I should quit your arms to-night And chance to die before 't was light, I would advise you -- and you might -- Love again to-morrow.


by Philip Freneau | |

On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin

 Thus, some tall tree that long hath stood 
The glory of its native wood, 
By storms destroyed, or length of years, 
Demands the tribute of our tears.
The pile, that took long time to raise, To dust returns by slow decays: But, when its destined years are o'er, We must regret the loss the more.
So long accustomed to your aid, The world laments your exit made; So long befriended by your art, Philosopher, 'tis hard to part!-- When monarchs tumble to the ground, Successors easily are found: But, matchless FRANKLIN! what a few Can hope to rival such as YOU, Who seized from kings their sceptered pride, And turned the lightning darts aside.


by Philip Freneau | |

On the Universality and Other Attributes of the God of Nature

 ALL that we see, about, abroad,
What is it all, but nature's God?
In meaner works discovered here
No less than in the starry sphere.
In seas, on earth, this God is seen; All that exist, upon Him lean; He lives in all, and never strayed A moment from the works He made: His system fixed on general laws Bespeaks a wise creating cause; Impartially He rules mankind And all that on this globe we find.
Unchanged in all that seems to change, Unbounded space is His great range; To one vast purpose always true, No time, with Him, is old or new.
In all the attributes divine Unlimited perfectings shine; In these enwrapt, in these complete, All virtues in that centre meet.
This power doth all powers transcend, To all intelligence a friend, Exists, the greatest and the best Throughout all the worlds, to make them blest.
All that He did He first approved, He all things into being loved; O'er all He made He still presides, For them in life, or death provides.


by Philip Freneau | |

The Republican Genius of Europe

 Emporers and kings! in vain you strive
Your torments to conceal--
The age is come that shakes your thrones,
Tramples in dust despotic crowns,
And bids the sceptre fail.
In western worlds the flame began: From thence to France it flew-- Through Europe, now, it takes its way, Beams an insufferable day, And lays all tyrants low.
Genius fo France! pursue the chace Till Reason's laws restore Man to be Man, in every clime;-- That Being, active, great, sublime Debas'd in dust no more.
In dreadful pomp he takes his way O'er ruin'd crowns, demolish'd thrones-- Pale tyrants shrink before his blaze-- Round him terrific lightenings play-- With eyes of fire, he looks then through, Crushes the vile despotic crew, And Pride in ruin lays.