#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters
Of a thousand things that the Yea… The busy Old Year who has gone aw… How many will rise in the Spring,… Brought to life by the sun of May… Will the rose-tree branches, so wh…
Oh life is wonderful,' she said, ‘And all my world is bright; Can Paradise show fairer skies, Or more effulgent light?’ (Speak lower, lower, mortal heart,
How does Love speak? In the faint flush upon the tell-t… And in the pallor that succeeds it… The quivering lid of an averted ey… The smile that proves the parent t…
Nay, Romney, nay—I will not hear… Those words again: “I love you, l… You are profane—blasphemous. I r… You are no actor for so grand a pl… You love with all your heart? We…
You will be what you will to be; Let failure find its false content In that poor word “environment,” But spirit scorns it, and is free. It masters time, it conquers space…
They stood at the garden gate. By the lifting of a lid She might have read her fate In a little thing he did. He plucked a beautiful flower,
There was a man, it was said one t… Who went astray in his youthful pr… Can the brain keep cool and the he… When the blood is a river that’s r… And boys will be boys the old folk…
Uncle Rob says, That once on a time the fire flies Were stars with the others up in t… They used to shimmer, and dance an… Night after night in the Milky Wa…
I strolled last eve across the lon… One solitary picture struck my eye… A distant ploughboy stood against… How far he seemed above the noisy… Upon the bosom of a cloud the sod
The Poker proposed to the shovel That they should be man and wife, ‘I think,’ said he, ‘that we could… As we journey along through life.’ The Shovel blushed as she answere…
Death! I know not what room you… But I will go my way, Rejoicing day by day, Nor will I flee or stay For fear I tread the path you may…
In the journey of life, as we trav… To the mystical goal that is hidde… You may stumble at times into Roa… Not seeing the sign-board that poi… Through caverns of sorrow your fee…
The uses of sorrow I comprehend Better and better at each year’s e… Deeper and deeper I seem to see Why and wherefore it has to be. Only after the dark, wet days
One leaned on velvet cushions like… To see him pass, the hero of an ho… Whom men called great. She bowed… And smiled, and blushed, and knew… One trailed her tinselled garments…
What are these nameless mysteries, These subtleties of life and death… That bring before our spirit eyes The loved and lost; or, like a bre… Of lightest air, will touch the ch…
