Unseen Spirits

The shadows lay along Broadway,
T was near the twilight-tide,
And slowly there a lady fair
Was walking in her pride.
Alone walked she; but, viewlessly,
Walked spirits at her side.

Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,
And Honor charmed the air;
And all astir looked kind on her,
And called her good as fair,
For all God ever gave to her
She kept with chary care.

She kept with care her beauties rare
From lovers warm and true,
For her heart was cold to all but gold,
And the rich came not to woo,
But honored well are charms to sell
If priests the selling do.

Now walking there was one more fair,
A slight girl, lily-pale;
And she had unseen company
To make the spirit quail:
Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn,
And nothing could avail.

No mercy now can clear her brow
For this worlds peace to pray;
For, as loves wild prayer dissolved in air,
Her womans heart gave way!
But the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven
By man is cursed alway!

Nathaniel Parker Willis

Nathaniel Parker Willis was an American author, poet, and editor who was among the most popular literary figures of his time. He founded and edited several periodicals and wrote many poems, essays, and travelogues. Willis was known for his urbane style, which influenced the development of 19th-century American literature. Despite his widespread popularity during his lifetime, his work fell out of favor in the years following his death.

Nathaniel Parker Willis

The Declaration.

Nathaniel Parker Willis, Simple Poetry

Starlight.

Nathaniel Parker Willis, Simple Poetry

The Tri-Portrait.

Nathaniel Parker Willis, Simple Poetry

To A Sleeping Boy.

Nathaniel Parker Willis, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Tri-Portrait.

'Twas a rich night in June. The air was all
Fragrance and balm, and the wet leaves were stirred
By the soft fingers of the southern wind,
And caught the light capriciously, like wings
Haunting the greenwood with a silvery sheen.
The stars might not be numbered, and the moon
Exceeding beautiful, went up in heaven,
And took her place in silence, and a hush,
Like the deep Sabbath of the night, came down
And rested upon nature. I was out
With three sweet sisters wandering, and my thoughts
Took color of the moonlight, and of them,
And I was calm and happy. Their deep tones,
Low in the stillness, and by that soft air
Melted to reediness, bore out, like song,
The language of high feelings, and I felt
How excellent is woman when she gives
To the fine pulses of he...

Nathaniel Parker Willis

The Village Street

In these rapid, restless shadows,
Once I walked at eventide,
When a gentle, silent maiden,
Walked in beauty at my side.
She alone there walked beside me
All in beauty, like a bride.

Pallidly the moon was shining
On the dewy meadows nigh;
On the silvery, silent rivers,
On the mountains far and high,,
On the oceans star-lit waters,
Where the winds a-weary die.

Slowly, silently we wandered
From the open cottage door,
Underneath the elms long branches
To the pavement bending oer;
Underneath the mossy willow
And the dying sycamore.

With the myriad stars in beauty
All bedight, the heavens were seen,
Radiant hopes were bright around me,
Like the light of stars serene;
Like the mellow midnight splendor
Of the Nig...

Edgar Allan Poe

She Was A Phantom Of Delight

She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being ...

William Wordsworth

The Somnambulist

List, ye who pass by Lyulph's Tower
At eve; how softly then
Doth Aira-force, that torrent hoarse,
Speak from the woody glen!
Fit music for a solemn vale!
And holier seems the ground
To him who catches on the gale
The spirit of a mournful tale,
Embodied in the sound.

Not far from that fair site whereon
The Pleasure-house is reared,
As story says, in antique days
A stern-browed house appeared;
Foil to a Jewel rich in light
There set, and guarded well;
Cage for a Bird of plumage bright,
Sweet-voiced, nor wishing for a flight
Beyond her native dell.

To win this bright Bird from her cage,
To make this Gem their own,
Came Barons bold, with store of gold,
And Knights of high renown;
But one She prized, and only one;
Sir ...

William Wordsworth

To A Lady.

Suggested By Hearing Her Voice During Services At Church.

At night, in visions, when my soul drew near
    The shadowy confines of the spirit land,
Wild, wondrous notes of song have met my ear,
    Wrung from their harps by many a seraph's hand;
And forms of light, too, more divinely fair
    Than Mercy's messenger to hearts that mourn,
On wings that made sweet music in the air,
    Have round me, in those hours of bliss, been borne,
And, filled with joy unutterable, I
Have deemed myself a born child of the sky.

And often, too, at sunset's magic hour,
    When musing by some solitary stream,
While thought awoke in its resistless pow'r,
    And restless Fancy wove her brightest dream:
Mysterious tongues, that were not of the earth,
    Have whispere...

George W. Sands

Sonnet.

There was a beautiful spirit in her air,
    As of a fay at revel. Hidden springs,
Too delicate for knowledge, should be there,
    Moving her gently like invisible wings;
And then her lip out-blushing the red fruit
    That bursts with ripeness in the Autumn time,
And the arch eye you would not swear was mute,
    And the clear cheek, as of a purer clime,
And the low tone, soft as a pleasant flute
    Sent over water with the vesper chime;
And then her forehead with its loose, dark curl,
    And the bewildering smile that made her mouth
    Like a torn rose-leaf moistened of the South -
She has an angel's gifts - the radiant girl!

Nathaniel Parker Willis