Immortality
Battles nor songs can from oblivion save,
But Fame upon a white deed loves to build:
From out that cup of water Sidney gave,
Not one drop has been spilled.
More poems by Lizette Woodworth Reese
-
A Holiday
Along the pastoral ways I go,
To get the healing of the trees,
The ghostly news the hedges know; … -
Anne
Her eyes be like the violets,
Ablow in Sudbury lane;
When she doth smile, her face is sweet … -
Daffodils
Fathered by March, the daffodils are here.
First, all the air grew keen with yesterday,
And once a thrush from out some hollow gray … -
In Time of Grief
Dark, thinned, beside the wall of stone,
The box dripped in the air;
Its odor through my house was blown …