#Americans #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
To each progressive soul there com… When all things that have pleased… Grow flavourless, the springs of j… No more the waters of youth’s foun… Yet out of reach, tiptoeing as the…
I think that the bitterest sorrow… Of love unrequited, or cold death’… Is sweet compared to that hour whe… That some grand passion is on the… When we see that the glory and glo…
The saddest hour of anguish and of… Is not that season of supreme desp… When we can find no least light an… To gild the dread, black shadow of… Not in that luxury of sorrow when
I knew that a baby was hid in that… Though I saw no cradle and heard… But the husband was tip-toeing ‘ro… And the good wife was humming a so… And there was a look on the face o…
Quite carelessly I turned the new… A song I sang, full many a year a… Smiled up at me, as in a busy stre… One meets an old-time friend he us… So full it was, that simple little…
Why should the poet of these pregn… Be asked to sing of war’s unholy c… To laud and eulogize the trade whi… On horrid holocausts of human live… Man was a fighting beast when eart…
After the battles are over, And the war drums cease to beat, And no more is heard on the hillsi… The sound of hurrying feet, Full many a noble action,
Oh! it is not just the men who fac… Not the fighters at the Front alo… Who will bring the longed-for clos… Could not carry on that fray witho… Who are working at war’s problems…
We will be what we could be. Do n… “It might have been, had not this,… No fate can keep us from the chose… He only might who is. We will do what we could do. Do n…
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,
Oh, vain is the stern protesting Of winds, when the tide runs high; And vainly the deep-sea waters Call out, as the waves speed by; For, deaf to the claim of the ocea…
You remember the hall on the corne… To-night as I walked down street I heard the sound of music, And the rhythmic beat and beat, In time to the pulsing measure
Lightly they hold him and lightly… Soft as a pillow are somebody’s ar… Down he goes slowly, ever so lowly Over the rim of the cradle they la… Baby’s first journey is free from…
Adieu, Romauld! But thou canst no… Although no more I haunt thy drea… Thy hungering heart forever must r… And starve for those lost moments… Naught shall avail thy priestly ri…
The meadow lark-s trill and the br… From morning to evening fill all t… And my heart is as light as the do… The world is so bright and the ear… There is life in the wood, there i…