#AmericanWriters
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…
Carlyle combined the lit’ry life With throwing teacups at his wife, Remarking, rather testily, “Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!”
Because my love is quick to come a… A little here, and then a little t… What use are any words of mine to… My heart is stubborn, and my spiri… Of weathering the drip and drive o…
Some men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter.
I’m sick of embarking in dories Upon an emotional sea. I’m wearied of playing Dolores (A role never written for me). I’ll never again like a cub lick
Oh, there once was a lady, and so… Whose lover grew weary, whose love… “My child,” he remarked, “though o… In the manner of men, I suggest w… And the truest of friends ever aft…
On sweet young earth where the myr… Long we lay, when the May was new… The willow was winding the moon in… The bud of the rose was told with… And now on the brittle ground I’m…
Now this must be the sweetest plac… From here to heaven’s end; The field is white with flowering… The birches leap and bend, The hills, beneath the roving sun,
Lady, lady, never start Conversation toward your heart; Keep your pretty words serene; Never murmur what you mean. Show yourself, by word and look,
They laid their hands upon my head… They stroked my cheek and brow; And time could heal a hurt, they s… And time could dim a vow. And they were pitiful and mild
Who was there had seen us Wouldn’t bid him run? Heavy lay between us All our sires had done. There he was, a-springing
“So surely is she mine,” you say,… Your quick and steady mind to hard… To bills and bonds and talk of wha… And whistle up the stair, of eveni… And do you see a dream behind my e…
I shall come back without fanfaron… Of wailing wind and graveyard pano… But, trembling, slip from cool Et… A mild and most bewildered little… I shall not make sepulchral midnig…
When I am old, and comforted, And done with this desire, With Memory to share my bed And Peace to share my fire, I’ll comb my hair in scalloped ban…
When first we saw the apple tree The boughs were dark and straight, But never grief to give had we, Though Spring delayed so late. When last I came away from there