#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #Aphorism #Epigram
I think that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass,
How shall I wail, that wasn’t mea… Love has run and left me, oh, what… Dream, then, I must, who never ca… What if I should meet Love, once… What if I met him, walking on the…
The bird that feeds from off my pa… Is sleek, affectionate, and calm, But double, to me, is worth the th… A-flickering in the elder-bush.
Oh, I’d been better dying, Oh, I was slow and sad; A fool I was, a-crying About a cruel lad! But there was one that found me,
Because my love is quick to come a… A little here, and then a little t… What use are any words of mine to… My heart is stubborn, and my spiri… Of weathering the drip and drive o…
Who call him spurious and shoddy Shall do it o’er my lifeless body. I heartily invite such birds To come outside and say those word…
If you should sail for Trebizond,… Or cry another name in your first… Or see me board a train, and fail… Appropriately, I’d clutch my brea… And you, if I should wander throu…
By the time you swear you’re his, Shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is Infinite, undying— Lady, make a note of this:
I shall come back without fanfaron… Of wailing wind and graveyard pano… But, trembling, slip from cool Et… A mild and most bewildered little… I shall not make sepulchral midnig…
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of so… A medley of extemporanea; And love is a thing that can never… And I am Marie of Roumania.
No more my little song comes back; And now of nights I lay My head on down, to watch the blac… And wait the unfailing gray. Oh, sad are winter nights, and slo…
If I should labor through dayligh… Consecrate, valorous, serious, tru… Then on the world I may blazon my… And what if I don’t, and what if…
Death’s the lover that I’d be tak… Wild and fickle and fierce is he. Small’s his care if my heart be br… Gay young Death would have none o… Hear them clack of my haste to gre…
Go I must along my ways Though my heart be ragged, Dripping bitter through the days, Festering, and jagged. Smile I must at every twinge,
Men seldom make passes At girls who wear glasses.