“A soldier of the Union mustered out,”
  Is the inscription on an unknown grave
  At Newport News, beside the salt-sea wave,
  Nameless and dateless; sentinel or scout
Shot down in skirmish, or disastrous rout
  Of battle, when the loud artillery drave
  Its iron wedges through the ranks of brave
  And doomed battalions, storming the redoubt. 
Thou unknown hero sleeping by the sea
  In thy forgotten grave! with secret shame
  I feel my pulses beat, my forehead burn,
When I remember thou hast given for me
  All that thou hadst, thy life, thy very name,
  And I can give thee nothing in return.

SLEEP

Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound
  Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught;
  Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thought
  As Hermes with his lyre in sleep profound
The hundred wakeful eyes of Argus bound;
  For I am weary, and am overwrought
  With too much toil, with too much care distraught,
  And with the iron crown of anguish crowned. 
Lay thy soft hand upon my brow and cheek,
  O peaceful Sleep! until from pain released
  I breathe again uninterrupted breath! 
Ah, with what subtile meaning did the Greek
  Call thee the lesser mystery at the feast
  Whereof the greater mystery is death!

THE OLD BRIDGE AT FLORENCE

Taddeo Gaddi built me.  I am old,
  Five centuries old.  I plant my foot of stone
  Upon the Arno, as St. Michael’s own
  Was planted on the dragon.  Fold by fold
Beneath me as it struggles.  I behold
  Its glistening scales.  Twice hath it overthrown
  My kindred and companions.  Me alone
  It moveth not, but is by me controlled,
I can remember when the Medici
  Were driven from Florence; longer still ago
  The final wars of Ghibelline and Guelf. 
Florence adorns me with her jewelry;
  And when I think that Michael Angelo
  Hath leaned on me, I glory in myself.

IL PONTE VECCHIO DI FIRENZE

Gaddi mi fece; il Ponte Vecchio sono;
  Cinquecent’ anni gia sull’ Arno pianto
  Il piede, come il suo Michele Santo
  Pianto sul draco.  Mentre ch’ io ragiono
Lo vedo torcere con flebil suono
  Le rilucenti scaglie.  Ha questi affranto
  Due volte i miei maggior.  Me solo intanto
  Neppure muove, ed io non l’ abbandono. 
Io mi rammento quando fur cacciati
  I Medici; pur quando Ghibellino
  E Guelfo fecer pace mi rammento. 
Fiorenza i suoi giojelli m’ ha prestati;
  E quando penso ch’ Agnolo il divino
  Su me posava, insuperbir mi sento.

NATURE