#English #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
THE land of gold was far away, The sea a challenge roared between… I left my throne, my crown, my que… And sailed out of the quiet bay. I met the challenge of the wave,
DEAR, do you sigh that your love… Laugh with and play with you, Weep with and pray with you, All his life through? Think, O my heart, if you never h…
THE wild wind wails in the poplar… I sit here alone. O heart of my heart, come hither t… Come to me straight over land and… My soul—my own!
ONE morning, my heart can remembe… I sat dreaming there, In the 'governor’s’ chair In the office. The month was Nove… And the weather a subject for pray…
_Who Died on October 25th_, 1899. THERE was a day, A horrible Autumn day, When from her home, the home she m… And that day made a nightmare of w…
ON this old lawn, where lost hour… Across the shadows dark with dew, Where autumn on the thick sweet gr… Has laid a weary leaf or two, When the young morning, keenly swe…
THE house is haunted; when the li… Go pattering about it in their pla… I tremble lest the little one shou… The ghosts that haunt the happy ni… And yet I think they only come to…
THE world’s a path all fresh and… A sky all fresh and fair, With daisies underneath your feet And roses for your hair; Red roses for your pretty hair,
NIGHT, ambushed in the darkling… Waited to seize the sleeping field… His sentinels the pine trees stood Till the sun fell beneath his shie… Then when the day at last was dead…
I KNOW a garden where white lili… Under the grey sweet-laden apple b… It is a garden where the roses blo… And honeysuckle covers half the ho… O happy garden, do you keep the vo…
You need not call at the Inn; I have ordered my bed: Fair linen sheets therein And a tester of lead. No musty fusty scents
WHEN hides the sun behind a bank… Though well we know the sun is shi… No less the shadow falls on down a… And the bright hues grow dull as b… So, when thou goest from me into t…
NEVER a ring or a lock of hair Or a letter stained with tears, No crown for the princely hour to… To be mocked of the rebel years. Not a spoken vow, not a written pa…
The sulky sage scarce condescends… This pretty world of sun and grass… To him ’tis all illusion—only he Is real amid the visions he percei… No sage am I, and yet, by Love’s…
THIS is Christ’s birthday: long… He lay upon His Mother’s knee, Who kissed and blessed Him soft a… God’s gift to her, as you to me. My baby dear, my little one,