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...TO KNOW IN REVERIE THE ONLY PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE ABSOLUTE by HAYDEN CARRUTH ON THE SALE OF MY FARM by ROBERT FROST PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST FICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LOVE'S TENDRILS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SORROW SINGERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK RUNNER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |