#Americans #Women
You know the bloom, unearthly whit… That none has seen by morning ligh… The tender moon, alone, may bare Its beauty to the secret air. Who’d venture past its dark retrea…
Lady, lady, should you meet One whose ways are all discreet, One who murmurs that his wife Is the lodestar of his life, One who keeps assuring you
Travel, trouble, music, art, A kiss, a frock, a rhyme– I never said they feed my heart, But still they pass my time.
Every love’s the love before In a duller dress. That’s the measure of my lore– Here’s my bitterness: Would I knew a little more,
“Then we will have tonight!” we sa… “Tomorrow– may we not be dead?” The morrow touched our eyes, and f… Us walking firm above the ground, Our pulses quick, our blood alight…
It costs me never a stab nor squir… To tread by chance upon a worm. “Aha, my little dear,” I say, “Your clan will pay me back one da…
Carlyle combined the lit’ry life With throwing teacups at his wife, Remarking, rather testily, “Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!”
Long I fought the driving lists, Plume a-stream and armor clanging; Link on link, between my wrists, Now my heavy freedom’s hanging.
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.
Little things that no one needs— Little things to joke about— Little landscapes, done in beads. Little morals, woven out, Little wreaths of gilded grass,
Unto seventy years and seven, Hide your double birthright well– You, that are the brat of Heaven And the pampered heir to Hell. Let your rhymes be tinsel treasure…
In May my heart was breaking– Oh, wide the wound, and deep! And bitter it beat at waking, And sore it split in sleep. And when it came November,
Only name the day, and we’ll fly a… In the face of old traditions, To a sheltered spot, by the world… Where we’ll park our inhibitions. Come and gaze in eyes where the lo…
They hurried here, as soon as you… Their faces damp with haste and sy… And pressed my hand in theirs, and… And clicked their tongues, and wat… Gently they told me of that Other…
The pure and worthy Mrs. Stowe Is one we all are proud to know As mother, wife, and authoress– Thank God, I am content with less…