#Americans #Women
My poplars are like ladies trim, Each conscious of her own estate; In costume somewhat over prim, In manner cordially sedate, Like two old neighbours met to cha…
God send thee peace, Oh, great un… A world away, I pray that thou ma… Softly as on the Well-Belovèd’s b… Where ever in her wistful dreams t… At dawn my prayer is all for thee,…
Below them in the twilight the qui… And warm within its holding, the o… But here within the open fields th… And, hand in hand, across them the… Below them in the village are peac…
I am as weary as a child That weeps upon its mother’s breas… For joy of comforting. But I Have no such place to rest. I am as weary as a bird
When the white dawn comes I shall kneel to welcome it; The dread that darkened on my eyes Shall vanish and be gone. I shall look upon it
To you he gave his laughter and hi… His words that of all words were m… His glad, mad moments when the… And his wild song outshrilled the… For you that memory, but happie…
Sometimes, slow moving through unl… The need to look on beauty falls o… As on the blind the anguished wish… As on the dumb the urge to rage or… Beauty of marble where the eyes ma…
A hundred miles between us Could never part us more Than that one step you took from m… What time my need was sore. A hundred years between us
She put her wedding-gown away As tenderly as one might close, With kissing lips and finger-tips, The petals of a rose Still held for the Belovèd’s sake…
Oh, Heart of a Hundred Sorrows, Whose pity is great therefore, The gift that thy children bring t… Is ever a sorrow more. Sure of thy dear compassion,
I wish we might go gypsying one da… On a blue October morning Beneath a cloudless sky, When all the world’s a vibrant har… The winds o’ God have strung,
I took the love you gave, Ah, car… Counting it only as a rose to wear A little moment on my heart no mor… So many roses had I worn before, So lightly that I scarce believed…
We are the keepers of that steadfa… that guides people’s course and de… Not ours the skill directing over… the might beams that blaze the pat… Ours but the hands that, serving,…
I lost Young Love so long ago I had forgot him quite, Until a little lass and lad Went by my door to-night. Ah, hand in hand, but not alone,
They are ashamed who leave so soon The Inn of Grief—who thought to s… Through many a faithful sun and mo… Yet tarry but a day. Shame-faced I watch them pay the…