Say I am too often sad-
Still behold me at your side.
Say I’m neither brave nor young,
Say I woo and coddle care,
Say the devil touched my tongue-
Still you have my heart to wear.
But say my verses do not scan,
And I get me another man!
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Although I work, and seldom cease,
Alas, I cannot make me careFor Dumas fils and Dumas pere.
I think that I shall never know
Around me, other girls inspireIn men the rush and roar of fire,The sweet transparency of glass,The tenderness of April grass,The durability of granite;But me- I don’t know how to plan it.The lads I’ve met in Cupid’s deadlockWere- shall we say?- born out of wedlock.They broke my heart, they stilled my song,And said they had to…
Now this must be the sweetest place
The field is white and flowering lace,The birches leap and bend,The hills, beneath the roving sun,From green to purple pass,And little, trifling breezes runTheir fingers through the grass.So good it is, so gay it is,So calm it is, and pure.A one whose eyes may look on thisMust be the happier, sure.But me- I see it…
‘It’s queer,’ she said; ‘I see the light
All silver-like and calm and bright-We’ve not had stars like that again!‘And she was such a gentle thingTo birth a baby in the cold.The barn was dark and frightening-This new one’s better than the old.‘I mind my eyes were full of tears,For I was young, and quick distressed,But she was less than me in yearsThat…
Daily I listen to wonder and woe,
Telling me stories of lava and snow,Delicate fables of ribbon and lace,Tales of the quarry, the kill, the chase,Longer than heaven and duller than hell-Never you blame me, who cry my case:‘Poets alone should kiss and tell!’Dumbly I hear what I never should know,Gently I counsel of pride and of grace;Into minutiae gayly they go,Telling…
And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The calmer, I, to see it trueThat ways of love are never new-The love that sets you daft and dazedIs every love that ever blazed;The happier, I, to fathom this:A kiss is every other kiss.The reckless vow, the lovely name,When Helen walked, were spoke the same;The weighted breast, the grinding woe,When Phaon fled, were ever…