#Americans #Women
It is too early for white boughs,… For snows. From out the hedge the… A few last flakes, ragged and deli… Down the stripped roads the maples… Soft, ’wildering fires. Stained a…
Wild rockets blew along the lane; The tall white gentians too were t… The mullein stalks were brave agai… Of blossoms was the bramble bare; And toward the pasture bars below
Along the pastoral ways I go, To get the healing of the trees, The ghostly news the hedges know; To hive me honey like the bees, Against the time of snow.
Battles nor songs can from oblivio… But Fame upon a white deed loves… From out that cup of water Sidney… Not one drop has been spilled.
Fathered by March, the daffodils… First, all the air grew keen with… And once a thrush from out some ho… On a field’s edge, where whitening… Fluted the last unto the budding y…
When I consider Life and its few… A wisp of fog betwixt us and the s… A call to battle, and the battle d… Ere the last echo dies within our… A rose choked in the grass; an hou…
Such special sweetness was about That day God sent you here, I knew the lavender was out, And it was mid of year. Their common way the great winds b…
A serviceable thing Is fennel, mint, or balm, Kept in the thrifty calm Of hollows, in the spring; Or by old houses pent.
OH, the littles that remain! Scent of mint out in the lane; Flare of window; sound of bees;— These, but these. Three times sitting down to bread;
Break forth, break forth, O Sudbu… And bid your yards be gay Up all your gusty streets and down… For Lydia comes to-day! I hear it on the wharves below;
A Colonial Custom Bathsheba came out to the sun, Out to our wallèd cherry-trees; The tears adown her cheek did run, Bathsheba standing in the sun,
I am thy grass, O Lord! I grow up sweet and tall But for a day; beneath Thy sword To lie at evenfall. Yet have I not enough
Glad that I live am I; That the sky is blue; Glad for the country lanes, And the fall of dew. After the sun the rain;
The spicewood burns along the gray… In moist unchimneyed places, in a… That whips it all before, and all… Into one thick, rude flame, now lo… It is the first, the homeliest thi…
This is the house where I was bre… The wind blows through it without… The wind bitten by the roadside mi… Here brake I loaf, here climbed t… The fuchsia on the window sill;
