#Americans #Women
Oh, there once was a lady, and so… Whose lover grew weary, whose love… “My child,” he remarked, “though o… In the manner of men, I suggest w… And the truest of friends ever aft…
In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave.
You are brief and frail and blue– Little sisters, I am, too. You are Heaven’s masterpieces– Little loves, the likeness ceases.
I think, no matter where you stray… That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter land… You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head,
Dear dead Victoria Rotted cosily; In excelsis gloria, And R. I. P. And her shroud was buttoned neat,
Joy stayed with me a night— Young and free and fair— And in the morning light He left me there. Then Sorrow came to stay,
When I consider, pro and con, What things my love is built upon— A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist; A questioning brow; a pretty twist Of words as old and tried as sin;
I never may turn the loop of a roa… Where sudden, ahead, the sea is ly… But my heart drags down with an an… My heart, that a second before was… I never behold the quivering rain—
Star, that gives a gracious dole, What am I to choose? Oh, will it be a shriven soul, Or little buckled shoes? Shall I wish a wedding-ring,
Never love a simple lad, Guard against a wise, Shun a timid youth and sad, Hide from haunted eyes. Never hold your heart in pain
Maidens, gather not the yew, Leave the glossy myrtle sleeping; Any lad was born untrue, Never a one is fit your weeping. Pretty dears, your tumult cease;
Now it’s over, and now it’s done; Why does everything look the same? Just as bright, the unheeding sun,… Can’t it see that the parting came… People hurry and work and swear,
For this my mother wrapped me warm… And called me home against the sto… And coaxed my infant nights to qui… And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight,
Hope it was that tutored me, And Love that taught me more; And now I learn at Sorrow’s knee The self-same lore.
I shall tread, another year, Ways I walked with Grief, Past the dry, ungarnered ear And the brittle leaf. I shall stand, a year apart,