#English #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
WIDE downs all gray, with gray o… Chill fields stripped naked of the… Small fields of rain-wet grass and… Wet, wind-blown trees—and, over al… Does memory lie? For Hope her mis…
Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle. THIS treasure of love, these pas… Dear as desire, are dearly bought: The sweet unrest of seeing you For some too-happy hour or two,
WHEN I am young again I’ll hoar… Nor deem that inexhaustible it is, Remembering old age comes after th… Joy grows to pain; Nor waste one moment of youth’s ro…
Your dear desired grace, Your hands, your lips of red, The wonder of your perfect face Will fade, like sweet rose-petals… When you are dead.
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady… She wears a satin gown; The elm tree makes the old churchy… She will not live in town. The English oak is a sturdy fello…
LIKE the sway of the silver birc… Is her dainty way; Like the gray of a twilight sky or… Are her eyes of gray; Like the clouds in their moving wh…
Sunrise is in your eyes, and in yo… The hope and bright desire of morn… My eyes are full of shadow, and my… Of life is yesterday. Yet lend my hand your hand, and le…
‘WILL you not walk the woods wit… The shafts of sunlight burn On many a golden-crested tree And many a russet fern. The Summer’s robe is dyed anew,
PART I UNDER the shade of convent tower… Where fast and vigil mark the hour… From childhood into youth there gr… A maid as fresh as April dew,
IT is not, Dear, because I am al… For I am lonelier when the rest a… But that my place against your hea… Too dear to dream of when you are… I weep because my thoughts no more…
SINCE Faith is a veil that has… And Hope wanders lost where no mo… Since Love is a mirror we break i… In snatching the image our soul ha… What is the use of the Summers an…
THE spring is here, and the long… Less bitterly cold than awhile ago… Our rags serve their purpose now,… Warmth enough in us to let us slee… The rain that trickles down our wa…
The enchanted hour, The magic bower, Where, crowned with roses, Love love discloses. ‘Kiss me, my lover;
WE loved, my love, and now it see… Our love has brought to birth Friendship, the fairest child of d… The rarest gift of earth. Soon die love’s roses fresh and fr…
NOT in rich glebe and ripe green… Does Summer weave her sweet resis… But in high hills, and moorlands w… The vast enchantment of her presen… Wide sky, and sky-wide waste of th…