#Americans #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
My love is young, so young; Young is her cheek, and her throat… And life is a song to be sung With love the word for each note. Young is her cheek and her throat;
In the rapture of life and of livi… I lift up my head and rejoice, And I thank the great Giver for g… The soul of my gladness a voice. In the glow of the glorious weathe…
When the soft sweet wind o’ the so… I dwelt in the light of a dark bro… And out where the robin sang his s… We lived and loved, while the days… In the sweet, sweet eves, when the…
You do but jest, sir, and you jest… How could the hand be enemy of the… Or seed and sod be rivals! How c… Feel jealousy of heat, plant of th… Or competition dwell ’twixt lip an…
Then, kiss me, sweet, just as you… I will not point, nor scold, nor t… Kiss me, dear love, in thy sweet w… But kiss me oft, sweetheart, I pr… Oh, sweet, I would be understood,
You are the moon, dear love, and… The tide of hope swells high withi… And hides the rough dark rocks of… When your fond eyes smile near in… But when that loving face is turne…
I think I never passed so sad an… Dear friend, as that one at the ch… The edifice from basement to the t… Was one resplendent blaze of colou… Up through broad aisles the stylis…
At morn the wise man walked abroad… Proud with the learning of great f… He laughed and said, “There is no… ’Tis force creates, ’tis reason ru… Meek with the wisdom of great fait…
Where have they gone to-the little… With natural manners and natural c… Who love their dollies and like th… And talk of something besides the… Little old women in plenty I find…
After the May time and after the… Rare with blossoms and perfume swe… Cometh the round world’s royal noo… The red midsummer of blazing heat, When the sun, like an eye that nev…
Friend of my youth, let us talk of… Of the long lost golden hours. When “Winter” meant only Christma… And “Summer” wreaths of flowers. Life has grown old, and cold, my f…
Who knows the way to wonderland? Oh, I know, Oh, I know! Trotty-te-trot on mama’s knee, Then over the billows of sleepy se… Down through the straits of by-lo,
’Tis the song of the morning, The words of the sun, As he swings o’er the mountains: ‘There’s work to be done: I must wake up the sleepers,
All in the dark we grope along, And if we go amiss We learn at least which path is wr… And there is gain in this. We do not always win the race
The devil in hell gave a festival, And he called his imps from their… Called them up from the ruddy cup, And marshalled them into line. And each to his place sprang the i…