, and the Bigelow Papers, of course, stand collectively for his humor.
Emerson's The Problem—containing the only verses by a living author hung up for contemplation in Westminster Abbey—still stands as the highwater mark of his genius, although possibly, so great is the advantage possessed by a shorter poem, it may be superseded at last by his Daughters of Time.
No one doubts that Bayard Taylor will go down to fame, if at all, by his brief Legend of Balaklava, and Julia Ward Howe by her Battle Hymn of the Republic.
It is, perhaps, characteristic of the even and well-distributed muse of Whittier that it is less easy to select his high-water mark; but perhaps My Playmate comes as near to it as anything.
Bryant's Waterfowl is easily selected, and so is Longfellow's Wreck of the Hesperus, as conveying more sense of shaping imagination than any other, while Evangeline would, of course, command the majority of votes among his longer poems.
In some cases, as in Whitman's My Captain, t