Oh, Have You E'Er Heard Of Kate Kearney

    "Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney?
    She lives on the banks of Killarney;
    From the glance of her eye,
    Shun danger and fly,
    For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney."

Louisa May Alcott

Louisa May Alcott was an American novelist and poet best known as the author of the novel 'Little Women' and its sequels 'Little Men' and 'Jo's Boys.' Born in Germantown, Pennsylvania, she grew up in Massachusetts. She was an abolitionist and a feminist and was active in both the Transcendentalist and suffragist movements. Alcott began writing to support her family and went on to publish numerous works that have had a lasting impact on American literature.

Louisa May Alcott

Listening To Celestial Lays

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Gingerbread

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Hither, Hither

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Healfast, Healfast, Ye Hero Wounds

Louisa May Alcott, 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.

Kate O'Belashanny

Seek up and down, both fair and brown,
We've purty lasses many, O;
But brown or fair, one girl most rare,
The Flow'r o' Belashanny, O.
As straight is she as poplar-tree
(Tho' not as aisy shaken, O,)
And walks so proud among the crowd,
For queen she might be taken, O.
From top to toe, where'er you go,
The loveliest girl of any, O,
Ochone! your mind I find unkind,
Sweet Kate o' Belashanny, O!

One summer day the banks were gay,
The Erne in sunshine glancin' there,
The big cascade its music play'd
And set the salmon dancin' there.
Along the green my Joy was seen;
Some goddess bright I thought her there;
The fishes, too, swam close, to view
Her image in the water there.
From top to toe, where'er you go,
The loveliest girl of any, O,

William Allingham

To The Daughter Of The Author Of "Violet Keith."

I never looked upon thy face;
I never saw thy dwelling-place;
My home is by Lake Erie's shore,
Beyond Niagara's distant roar;
And thine where ships at anchor ride,
By fair St. Lawrence's rolling tide,
With half a continent between
Its seas of blue, and isles of green,
And many a mountain's nodding crest,
And many a valley's jewelled breast.
Thou in the east, I in the west;
Yet in this book thou hast to me
An individuality;
Something more tangible and fair
Than any dream or shape of air,
With more than an ideal grace,
And sweeter than a pictured face:
For in this book my thought recalls
The garden quaint, the convent walls.
And thou beneath their shadow set,
A blue-eyed fragrant violet.
So for the maiden of the tale,
Whose brave tr...

Kate Seymour Maclean

Kate

I know her by her angry air,
Her bright black eyes, her bright black hair,
Her rapid laughters wild and shrill,
As laughters of the woodpecker
From the bosom of a hill.
Tis Kateshe sayeth what she will;
For Kate hath an unbridled tongue,
Clear as the twanging of a harp.
Her heart is like a throbbing star.
Kate hath a spirit ever strung
Like a new bow, and bright and sharp
As edges of the scimitar.
Whence shall she take a fitting mate?
For Kate no common love will feel;
My woman-soldier, gallant Kate,
As pure and true as blades of steel.

Kate saith the world is void of might.
Kate saith the men are gilded flies.
Kate snaps her fingers at my vows;
Kate will not hear of lovers sighs.
I would I were an armed knight,
Far-famed ...

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Quee, Quee!

    "Quee, quee!
    Wait and see:
    You were good to me;
    So here I come,
    From my little home,
    To help you willingly,"

Louisa May Alcott

Don't Drive Me Away

    "Don't drive me away,
    But hear what I say:
    Bad men want the gold;
    They will steal it to-night,
    And you must take flight;
    So be quiet and busy and bold."

    "Slip away with me,
    And you will see
    What a wise little thing am I;
    For the road I show
    No man can know,
    Since it's up in the pathless sky."

Louisa May Alcott

By That Lake, Whose Gloomy Shore.[1]

By that Lake, whose gloomy shore
Sky-lark never warbles o'er,^[2]
Where the cliff hangs high and steep,
Young St. Kevin stole to sleep.
"Here, at least," he calmly said,
"Woman ne'er shall find my bed."
Ah! the good Saint little knew
What that wily sex can do."

'Twas from Kathleen's eyes he flew,--
Eyes of most unholy blue!
She had loved him well and long
Wished him hers, nor thought it wrong.
Wheresoe'er the Saint would fly,
Still he heard her light foot nigh;
East or west, where'er he turned,
Still her eyes before him burned.

On the bold cliff's bosom cast,
Tranquil now, he sleeps at last;
Dreams of heaven, nor thinks that e'er
Woman's smile can haunt him there.
But nor earth nor heaven is free,
From her power, ...

Thomas Moore