#Americans #Women
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
Good-bye, my song – I, who found… Offer my joy today a useless lute. In the deep night I sang me of th… The sun is on my face and I am mu… Good-bye, my song, in you was all…
The moon tonight is like the sun Through blossomed branches seen; Come out with me, dear silent one, And trip it on the green. ‘Nay, Lad, go you within its ligh…
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,
Mothers of men—the words are good… Pride in the very sound of them, s… Why is it their faces haunt me, wi… Ever some dear thing vanished and… Mothers of Men?
April will come to the quiet town That I left long ago, Scattering primroses up and down’… Row upon happy row. (Oh, little green lane, will she c…
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…
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…
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,…
We who in the old days—the easy da… Loitered in the distant lands—we k… When in far, foreign places, above… The sight of it, the might of it,… Our own flag, the one flag, it sti…
She came not into the Presence as… Crowned, white—robed and adoring,… She stood as a straight young sold… Who asks a boon of his captain in… She said: ‘Now have I stayed too…
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
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…
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…
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…