#Americans #Women
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.
He will love you presently If you be the way you be. Send your heart a-skittering. He will stoop, and lift the thing. Be your dreams as thread, to tease
Long I fought the driving lists, Plume a-stream and armor clanging; Link on link, between my wrists, Now my heavy freedom’s hanging.
Daily I listen to wonder and woe, Nightly I hearken to knave or to… Telling me stories of lava and sno… Delicate fables of ribbon and lace… Tales of the quarry, the kill, the…
There still are kindly things for… Who am afraid to dream, afraid to… This little chair of scrubbed and… This easy book, this fire, sedate… And I shall stay with them, nor c…
Love is sharper than stones or sti… Lone as the sea, and deeper blue; Loud in the night as a clock that… Longer-lived than the Wandering J… Show me a love was done and throug…
If, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; We all assume that Oscar said it.
Were you to cross the world, my de… To work or love or fight, I could be calm and wistful here, And close my eyes at night. It were a sweet and gallant pain
And if, my friend, you’d have it e… There’s naught to hear or tell. But need you try to black my eye In wishing me farewell. Though I admit an edged wit
My heart went fluttering with fear Lest you should go, and leave me h… To beat my breast and rock my head And stretch me sleepless on my bed… Ah, clear they see and true they s…
Because your eyes are slant and sl… Because your hair is sweet to touc… My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.
The Lives and Times of John Keat… Percy Bysshe Shelley, and George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron Byron and Shelley and Keats Were a trio of Lyrical treats.
Daily dawns another day; I must up, to make my way. Though I dress and drink and eat, Move my fingers and my feet, Learn a little, here and there,
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…
For one, the amaryllis and the ros… The poppy, sweet as never lilies a… The ripen’d vine, that beckons as… The dancing star. For one, the trodden rosemary and…
