Category: 19th century
-

“Evening” by Hilda Doolittle (1886 – 1961)
“Evening” by Hilda Doolittle The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide-spread under the light grow faint— the petals reach inward, the blue tips bend toward the bluer heart and the flowers are lost. The cornel-buds are still white, but shadows dart from the cornel-roots— black creeps from root to…
-

“Cities” by Hilda Doolittle (1886 – 1961)
“…So he built a new city, ah can we believe, not ironically but for new splendour constructed new people to lift through slow growth to a beauty unrivalled yet— …”
-

“Quest” by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1880 – 1966)
Quest BY GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON The phantom happiness I sought O’er every crag and moor; I paused at every postern gate, And knocked at every door; In vain I searched the land and sea, E’en to the inmost core, The curtains of eternal night Descend—my search is o’er.
-

“My Little Dreams by Georgia Douglas Johnson (1880 – 1966)
My Little Dreams BY GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON I’m folding up my little dreams Within my heart tonight, And praying I may soon forget The torture of their sight. For time’s deft fingers scroll my brow With fell relentless art— I’m folding up my little dreams Tonight, within my heart.
-

“Mirèio” by Frédéric Mistral (1830 – 1914)
“…Yet on that ravaged tree thou savest oft Some little branch inviolate aloft, Tender and airy up against the blue, Which the rude spoiler cannot win unto: Only the birds shall come and banquet there, When, at St. Magdalene’s, the fruit is fair…”
-

“What the Goose-Girl Said About the Dean” by EDITH SITWELL (1887 – 1964)
“Whence he lies snoring like the moon Clownish-white all afternoon. Beneath the trees’ arsenical Sharp woodwind tunes; heretical— Blown like the wind’s mane (Creaking woodenly again).”
-

“Wynken, Blynken, and Nod” by Eugene Field (1850–1895)
“The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew.”
-

“I was born upon they bank, river” by Henry David Thoreau (1817 – 1862)
“I was born upon thy bank, river” by Henry David Thoreau I was born upon thy bank, river, My blood flows in thy stream, And thou meanderest forever At the bottom of my dream.
-

“The Watcher” by SARAH JOSEPHA HALE (1788 – 1879)
The Watcher BY SARAH JOSEPHA HALE The night was dark and fearful, The blast swept wailing by; A Watcher, pale and tearful, Look’d forth with anxious eye; How wistfully she gazes– No gleam of morn is there! And then her heart upraises Its agony of prayer! Within that dwelling lonely, Where want and darkness reign,…
-

“I Am Going To Sleep” by ALFONSIA STORNI (1892 – 1938)
“…so you’ll forget . . . Thank you. Oh, one request: if he telephones again tell him not to keep trying for I have left . . . ”