#Americans #Women
I always say, I always said If I were grown and free, I’d have a gown of reddest red As fine as you could see, To wear out walking, sleek and slo…
This I say, and this I know: Love has seen the last of me. Love’s a trodden lane to woe, Love’s a path to misery. This I know, and knew before,
God’s acre was her garden-spot, sh… She sat there often, of the Summe… Little and slim and sweet, among t… Her hair a fable in the leveled ra… She turned the fading wreath, the…
My garden blossoms pink and white, A place of decorous murmuring, Where I am safe from August night And cannot feel the knife of Spri… And I may walk the pretty place
Oh, let it be a night of lyric rai… And singing breezes, when my bell… I have so loved the rain that I w… Last in my ears its friendly, dim… I shall lie cool and quiet, who ha…
Carlyle combined the lit’ry life With throwing teacups at his wife, Remarking, rather testily, “Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!”
He will love you presently If you be the way you be. Send your heart a-skittering. He will stoop, and lift the thing. Be your dreams as thread, to tease
This, no song of an ingénue, This, no ballad of innocence; This, the rhyme of a lady who Followed ever her natural bents. This, a solo of sapience,
Needle, needle, dip and dart, Thrusting up and down, Where’s the man could ease a heart Like a satin gown? See the stitches curve and crawl
If she had been beautiful, even, Or wiser than women about her, Or had moved with a certain defian… If she had had sons at her sides, And she with her hands on their sh…
When I admit neglect of Gissing, They say I don’t know what I’m mi… Until their arguments are subtler, I think I’ll stick to Samuel But…
In May my heart was breaking– Oh, wide the wound, and deep! And bitter it beat at waking, And sore it split in sleep. And when it came November,
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
Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed– I think they would be better dead.
Little white love, your way you’ve… Now I am left alone, alone. Little white love, my heart’s fors… (Whom shall I get by telephone?) Well do I know there’s no returni…
