There is something about Death Like love itself! If with some one with whom you hav… And the glow of youthful love, You also, after years of life

Grandmother! You who sang to gree… And passed to a sweet repose at ni… Here is your little Rita at last Grown old, grown forty-nine; Here stretched on your grave under…

I reached the highest place in Sp… But through what bitterness of spi… The face of my father, sitting spe… Child-like, watching his canaries, And looking at the court-house win…

Over and over they used to ask me, While buying the wine or the beer, In Peoria first, and later in Chi… Denver, Frisco, New York, wherev… How I happened to lead the life,

They would have lynched me Had I not been secretly hurried a… To the jail at Peoria. And yet I was going peacefully ho… Carrying my jug, a little drunk,

Not in that wasted garden Where bodies are drawn into grass That feeds no flocks, and into eve… That bear no fruit— There where along the shaded walks

You praise my self-sacrifice, Spo… In rearing Irene and Mary, Orphans of my older sister! And you censure Irene and Mary For their contempt of me!

You have become a forge of snow-wh… A crucible of molten steel, O Fra… Your sons are stars who cluster to… And fade in light for you, O glor… They pass through meteor changes w…

Did you ever find out which of the boys it was Who snapped the toy pistol against… There when the flags were red and… In the breeze and “Bucky” Estil

Not character, not fortitude, not… Were mine, the which the village t… In bearing with my wife, while pre… Doing the work God chose for me. I loathed her as a termagant, as a…

I was the Widow McFarlane, Weaver of carpets for all the vill… And I pity you still at the loom… You who are singing to the shuttle And lovingly watching the work of…

Nothing in life is alien to you: I was a penniless girl from Summu… Who stepped from the morning train… All the houses stood before me wit… And drawn shades—I was barred out…

My life’s blossom might have bloom… Save for a bitter wind which stunt… On the side of me which you in the… From the dust I lift a voice of p… My flowering side you never saw!

Oh, you young radicals and dreamer… You dauntless fledglings Who pass by my headstone, Mock not its record of my captainc… And my faith in God!

Spring and Summer, Fall and Wint… After each other drifting, past my… And I lay so many years watching… The years till a terror came in my… With the feeling that I had becom…