Song Of The Queer Green Frog

    "No, no, come and fly
    Through the sunny sky,
    Or honey sip
    From the rose's lip,
    Or dance in the air,
    Like spirits fair.
    Come away, come away;
    'Tis our holiday."

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

Tell The Dear Old Body

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

My Kingdom

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Mountain--Laurel

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Fairy Song.

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.

Hello! Hello!

    "Hello! hello!
    Come down below,--
    It's lovely and cool
    Out here in the pool;
    On a lily-pad float
    For a nice green boat.
    Here we sit and sing
    In a pleasant ring;
    Or leap frog play,
    In the jolliest way.
    Our games have begun,
    Come join in the fun."

Louisa May Alcott

Hither, Hither

    Hither, hither, from thy home,
    Airy sprite, I bid thee come!
    Born of roses, fed on dew,
    Charms and potions canst thou brew?
    Bring me here, with elfin speed,
    The fragrant philter which I need.
    Make it sweet and swift and strong,
    Spirit, answer now my song!


**    *    *    *

    Hither I come,
    From my airy home,
    Afar in the silver moon.
    Take the magic spell,
    And use it well,
    Or its power will vanish soon!

Louisa May Alcott

Morning Song Of The Bees

"Awake! awake! for the earliest gleam
Of golden sunlight shines
On the rippling waves, that brightly flow
Beneath the flowering vines.
Awake! awake! for the low, sweet chant
Of the wild-birds' morning hymn
Comes floating by on the fragrant air,
Through the forest cool and dim;
Then spread each wing,
And work, and sing,
Through the long, bright sunny hours;
O'er the pleasant earth
We journey forth,
For a day among the flowers.

"Awake! awake! for the summer wind
Hath bidden the blossoms unclose,
Hath opened the violet's soft blue eye,
And wakened the sleeping rose.
And lightly they wave on their slender stems
Fragrant, and fresh, and fair,
Waiting for us, as we singing come
To gather our honey-dew there.
Then spread each wing,...

Louisa May Alcott

Clover-Blossom.

In a quiet, pleasant meadow,
Beneath a summer sky,
Where green old trees their branches waved,
And winds went singing by;
Where a little brook went rippling
So musically low,
And passing clouds cast shadows
On the waving grass below;
Where low, sweet notes of brooding birds
Stole out on the fragrant air,
And golden sunlight shone undimmed
On all most fresh and fair;--
There bloomed a lovely sisterhood
Of happy little flowers,
Together in this pleasant home,
Through quiet summer hours.
No rude hand came to gather them,
No chilling winds to blight;
Warm sunbeams smiled on them by day,
And soft dews fell at night.
So here, along the brook-side,
Beneath the green old trees,
The flowers dwelt among their friends,
The sunbeams and ...

Louisa May Alcott

Splash, Dash!

    "Splash, dash!
    Rumble and crash!
    Here come the beavers gay;
    See what they do,
    Rosy, for you,
    Because you helped me one day."


    "They come at my call;
    And though they are small,
    They'll dig the passage clear:
    I never forget;
    We'll save them yet,
    For love of Rosy dear."

Louisa May Alcott

The Boy's Appeal.

O say, dear sister, are you coming
    Forth to the fields with me?
The very air is gaily ringing
    With hum of bird and bee,
And crowds of swallows now are chirping
    Up in our ancient thorn,
And earth and air are both rejoicing,
    On this gay summer morn.

Shall we hie unto the streamlet's side
    To seek our little boat,
And, plying our oars with right good will,
    Over its bright waves float?
Or shall we loll on the grassy bank
    For hours dreamy, still,
To draw from its depths some silv'ry prize,
    Reward of angler's skill?

I do not talk of the tempting game
    The forest covers hide,
So dear to the sportsman - plovers shy,
    Pheasants with eye of pride,
For I know your timid nature shrinks
    From flas...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon