#Americans #Women
Snatch the departing mood; Make yours its emptying reed, and… Faith in the time, faith in our co… Faith in the least of good: Song cannot fail if these its spir…
I am thy grass, O Lord! I grow up sweet and tall But for a day; beneath Thy sword To lie at evenfall. Yet have I not enough
Her eyes be like the violets, Ablow in Sudbury lane; When she doth smile, her face is s… As blossoms after rain; With grief I think of my gray hai…
I am too near, too clear a thing f… A flower of mullein in a crack of… The villagers half see, or not at… Part of the weather, like the wind… You love to pluck the different, a…
It is too early for white boughs,… For snows. From out the hedge the… A few last flakes, ragged and deli… Down the stripped roads the maples… Soft, ’wildering fires. Stained a…
OH, the littles that remain! Scent of mint out in the lane; Flare of window; sound of bees;— These, but these. Three times sitting down to bread;
An apple orchard smells like wine; A succory flower is blue; Until Grief touched these eyes of… Such things I never knew. And now indeed I know so plain
Wild rockets blew along the lane; The tall white gentians too were t… The mullein stalks were brave agai… Of blossoms was the bramble bare; And toward the pasture bars below
Such special sweetness was about That day God sent you here, I knew the lavender was out, And it was mid of year. Their common way the great winds b…
To the sweet memory of Sidney Lan… The old house stands deserted, gra… With sharpened gables high in air, And deep-set lattices, all gay With massive arch and framework ra…
Battles nor songs can from oblivio… But Fame upon a white deed loves… From out that cup of water Sidney… Not one drop has been spilled.
Love came back at fall o’ dew, Playing his old part; But I had a word or two That would break his heart. ‘He who comes at candlelight,
There’s never a rose upon the bush… And never a bud on any tree; In wood and field nor hint nor sig… Of one green thing for you or me. Come in, come in, sweet love of mi…
Break forth, break forth, O Sudbu… And bid your yards be gay Up all your gusty streets and down… For Lydia comes to-day! I hear it on the wharves below;
A Colonial Custom Bathsheba came out to the sun, Out to our wallèd cherry-trees; The tears adown her cheek did run, Bathsheba standing in the sun,