The Female Poets of America

Framsida
Miller, 1872 - 486 sidor

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Sida 448 - As up and down the beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I. Above our heads the sullen clouds Scud black and swift across the sky; Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white lighthouses high. Almost as far as eye can reach I see the close-reefed vessels fly, As fast we flit along the beach, One little sandpiper and I.
Sida 48 - I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three; And the glass of water they've left for me Shall 'tchick
Sida 406 - ROCK ME TO SLEEP. Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight, Make me a child again, just for to-night ! Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Take me again to your heart, as of yore ; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair ; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep ; — Rock me to sleep...
Sida 406 - Over my heart, in the days that are flown, No love like mother-love ever has shone; No other worship abides and endures,— Faithful, unselfish, and patient, like yours: None like a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and the world-weary brain. Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;— Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!
Sida 457 - November woods are bare and still, November days are clear and bright ; Each noon burns up the morning's chill, The morning's snow is gone by night ; Each day my steps grow slow, grow light, As through the woods I reverent creep. Watching all things "lie down to sleep.
Sida 352 - Poor indeed thou must be, if around thee Thou no ray of light and joy canst throw ; If no silken cord of love hath bound thee To some little world through weal and woe...
Sida 329 - The twilight hours, like birds, flew by, As lightly and as free ; Ten thousand stars were in the sky, Ten thousand on the sea ; For every wave with dimpled face, That leaped upon the air, Had caught a star in its embrace, And held it trembling there.
Sida 406 - I am so weary of toil and of tears — Toil without, recompense, tears all in vain ; Take them, and give me my childhood again. I have grown weary of dust and decay — Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away, Weary of sowing for others to reap ; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.
Sida 20 - I once that loved the shady woods so well, Now thought the rivers did the trees excel, And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell.
Sida 87 - I'll believe thee; Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent, Let me think it innocent! Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure; All I ask is friendship's pleasure; Let the shining ore lie darkling,— Bring no gem in lustre sparkling; Gifts and gold are naught to me, I would only look on thee!

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