#Americans #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1914 #PoemsOfCheer
We plucked a red rose, you and I All in the summer weather; Sweet its perfume and rare its blo… Enjoyed by us together. The rose is dead, the summer fled,
Ah yes, I love you, and with all… Just as a weaker woman loves her o… Better than I love my beloved art… Which, until you came, reigned roy… My king, my master. Since I saw y…
When thy hand touches mine, throug… Of intricate and interlacèd veins Shoot swift delights that border o… Flesh thrills to thrilling flesh. When in thine eager eyes I look t…
The first flower of the spring is… Or bright, as one the ripe midsumm… The first faint note the forest wa… Is not as rich with feeling, or so… As when, full master of his art, t…
As I go and shop, sir! If a car I stop, sir! Where you chance to sit, And you want to read, sir! Never mind or heed, sir!
Oh! we love all the French, and w… As along through France we go. But the moments to us that are kee… Are the ones when our khaki boys w… Stalwart and handsome and trim and…
Flowers of France in the Spring, Your growth is a beautiful thing; But give us your fragrance and blo… Yea, give us your lives in truth, Give us your sweetness and grace
The solemn Sea of Silence lies be… I know thou livest, and them loves… And yet I wish some white ship wo… Across the ocean, beating word fro… The dead calm awes me with its awf…
In the midnight of darkness and te… When I would grope nearer to God, With my back to a record of error And the highway of sin I have tro… There comes to me shapes I would…
I see the tall church steeples— They reach so far, so far; But the eyes of my heart see the w… Where the starving people are. I hear the church bells ringing
An infant wailing in nameless fear… A shadow, perchance, in the quiet… Or the hum of an insect flying nea… Or the screech-owl’s cry, in the o… A little child on the sun-checked…
If I were sent to represent A portion of a nation I would not chat, on this and that… In the halls of legislation. To show my power, I’d waste no ho…
If I should die, how kind you all… In that strange hour I would not… There are no words too beautiful t… Of one who goes forevermore away Across that ebbing tide which has…
It was a way of Helen’s not to si… The songs that other people sang;… Sometimes an extract from an olden… Again some floating, fragmentary t… And these she fitted to old melodi…
Don’t drink, boys, don’t! There is nothing of happiness, ple… In brandy, in whiskey, in rum, ale… If they cheer you when drunk, you… In headaches and crossness the fol…
