At Miami

    Here, where the proud hibiscus blooms in flame,
        Where swaying palms nod lightly to the sea,
        Where each azalea towers - a stately tree -
    And orange blossoms charm, today I came
    Upon a little flower unknown to fame,
        Half hid in the scant sward, white as this shell
        From yonder beach, and I can hardly tell
    What drew me to it, murmuring its name.

    "Bred in cool meadows, vagrant from the North,
        Fair Dewberry, what art thou doing here?
        Or chance, or purpose started thee to roam?
    And yet whatever power sent thee forth,
        Still it is thine to call the sudden tear,
        To stir the trembling heart with thoughts of home."

Helen Leah Reed

Helen Leah Reed (1860-1926) was an American author and poet, renowned for her contributions to children's literature and her historical novels. She was an influential literary figure of her time, often remembered for her stories that blended education with entertainment. Reed's works reflected her deep knowledge and interest in history, making her a notable figure in early 20th-century American literature.

Helen Leah Reed

Summer In London

Helen Leah Reed, Simple Poetry

Serbia

Helen Leah Reed, Simple Poetry

The Harvard Regiment

Helen Leah Reed, Simple Poetry

Song Of Spring

Helen Leah Reed, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Old Garden

Spurge and sea-pink, hyssop blue,
Dragonhead of purple hue;
Catnip, frosted green and gray,
With blue butterflies a-sway,
These may point you out the way.

These and Summer's acolytes,
Crickets, singing days and nights,
Tell you the old road again;
And adown the tangled lane
Lead you to her window-pane.

Goldenrod and goldenglow
Crowd the gate in which you go;
To your arm they cling and catch,
Kiss the hand that lifts the latch,
Guide you to her garden-patch.

O'er the fence the hollyhock
Leans to greet you; and the stock
Looks as if it thought, "I knew
You were coming. Gave the cue
To the place to welcome you."

And the crumpled marigold
And the dahlia, big and bold,
With Sweet Williams, white and red,
No...

Madison Julius Cawein

Floridian.

I.

The cactus and the aloe bloom
Beneath the window of your room;
Your window where, at evenfall,
Beneath the twilight's first pale star,
You linger, tall and spiritual,
And hearken my guitar.

It is the hour
When every flower
Is wooed by moth or bee
Would, would you were the flower, dear,
And I the moth to draw you near,
To draw you near to me,
My dear,
To draw you near to me.

II.

The jasmine and bignonia spill
Their balm around your windowsill;
The sill where, when magnolia-white,
In foliage mists, the moon hangs far,
You lean with bright deep eyes of night
And hearken my guitar.

It is the hour
When from each flower
The wind woos fragrances
Would, would you were the flower, love,
...

Madison Julius Cawein

The Tell-Tale Flowers

And has the Spring's all glorious eye
No lesson to the mind?
The birds that cleave the golden sky--
Things to the earth resigned--
Wild flowers that dance to every wind--
Do they no memory leave behind?

Aye, flowers! The very name of flowers,
That bloom in wood and glen,
Brings Spring to me in Winter's hours,
And childhood's dreams again.
The primrose on the woodland lea
Was more than gold and lands to me.

The violets by the woodland side
Are thick as they could thrive;
I've talked to them with childish pride
As things that were alive:
I find them now in my distress--
They seem as sweet, yet valueless.

The cowslips on the meadow lea,
How have I run for them!
I looked with wild and childish glee
Upon each golden gem:

John Clare

The Lake Shore Road.

    'Tis noon, the meadow stretches in the sun,
    And every little spear of grass uplifts its slimness to the glow
    To let the heavy-laden bees pass out.

    A stream comes at a snail's pace through the gloom
    Of shrub and fern and brake,
    Leaps o'er a wall, goes singing on to find
    The coolness of the lake.

    A wild rose spreads her greenness on a hedge,
    And flings her tinted blossoms in the air;
    The sweetbriar neighbors with that porcupine
    Of shrubs, the gooseberry; with parasol
    Of white the elderberry shades her head
    And dreams of purple fruit and wine-press chill.

    From off her four warm eggs of mottled shade,
    A bird flies with a call of love and joy
    That wins an answer straight
    From that...

Jean Blewett

Bermuda.

O charming blossom of the sea
    Atlantic waters bosomed in!
Abiding-place of gayety,
    Elysian bower of "Cora Linn,"
The sprightly, lively débiteuse
Recounting all she sees and does.

Oh, how it makes the northern heart,
    With sluggish current half-congealed,
In ecstasy and vigor start
    To read about this tropic field;
The garden of luxuriousness,
In winter wearing summer's dress.

With gelid sap and frozen gum
    In maple trees and hackmatack,
While waiting for the spring to come
    Of life's necessities we lack;
And sip the nectar that we find
In luscious fruit with golden rind.

But down the street we dread to walk,
    For all the teachings of our youth
Receive an agonizing shock;
    Do tem...

Hattie Howard

Two Roses.

I've a friend beyond the ocean
    So regardful, so sincere,
And he sends me in a letter
    Such a pretty souvenir.

It is crushed to death and withered,
    Out of shape and very flat,
But its pure, delicious odor
    Is the richer for all that.

'Tis a rose from Honolulu,
    And it bears the tropic brand,
Sandwiched in this friendly missive
    From that far-off flower-land.

It shall mingle pot-à-pourri
    With the scents I love and keep;
Some of them so very precious
    That remembrance makes me weep.

While I dream I hear the music
    That of happiness foretells,
Like the flourishing of trumpets
    And the sound of marriage bells.

There's a rose upon the prairie,
    Chosen his by happy fate,...

Hattie Howard