The Chambered Nautilus This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its perfume sails, That, other lands are visited, And its own coast is not to be forgotten, By those who had sailed its sea, though it may be buried, And the waves of deep forgetfulness cover its timbers.

O, better than the ancient marble flame Of the torches of the sun, That forever burn in the home of the dead, The winds that we hear are winds of song, And the waves we know but little of.

Ode to the Hudson O river! Here we stand beside thy banks, Where the old trees are fringing the grass, And the sun lies sleeping on the waters, too, Looking down in shimmers, from clouds that slowly pass. With bended knee and grateful voice, we sing The praise of thee, for every song of love Sends forth its grateful murmur to the sky. A gentle ripple runs from shore to shore, The dancing boat, that lists from place to place, Breathes freely in thee, as we move along.

• Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr