Sweet, Sweet Days Are Passing

    Sweet, sweet days are passing
    O'er my happy home.
    Passing on swift wings through the valley of life.
    Cold are the days when winter comes again.
    When my sweet days were passing at my happy home,
    Sweet were the days on the rivulet's green brink ;
    Sweet were the days when I read my father's books;
    Sweet were the winter days when bright fires are blazing."

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

To J.M.B.

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Gingerbread

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Sweet! Sweet!

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Tell The Dear Old Body

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.

Sweet Are The Flowers Of Life,[1]

    "Sweet are the flowers of life,
    Swept o'er my happy days at home;
    Sweet are the flowers of life
    When I was a little child.


    "Sweet are the flowers of life
    That I spent with my father at home;
    Sweet are the flowers of life
    When children played about the house.


    "Sweet are the flowers of life
    When the lamps are lighted at night;
    Sweet are the flowers of life
    When the flowers of summer bloomed.


    "Sweet are the flowers of life
    Dead with the snows of winter;
    Sweet are the flowers of life
    When the days of spring come on.

    (1) These lines were actually composed by a six-year old child.

Louisa May Alcott

Summer Days Are Over

    "Summer days are over,
    Summer work is done;
    Harvests have been gathered
    Gayly one by one.
    Now the feast is eaten,
    Finished is the play;
    But one rite remains for
    Our Thanksgiving-day.

    "Best of all the harvest
    In the dear God's sight,
    Are the happy children
    In the home to-night;
    And we come to offer
    Thanks where thanks are due,
    With grateful hearts and voices,
    Father, mother, unto you."

Louisa May Alcott

Flowers, dear flowers, farewell!

"We are sending you, dear flowers,
Forth alone to die,
Where your gentle sisters may not weep
O'er the cold graves where you lie;
But you go to bring them fadeless life
In the bright homes where they dwell,
And you softly smile that 't is so,
As we sadly sing farewell.

O plead with gentle words for us,
And whisper tenderly
Of generous love to that cold heart,
And it will answer ye;
And though you fade in a dreary home,
Yet loving hearts will tell
Of the joy and peace that you have given:
Flowers, dear flowers, farewell!"

Louisa May Alcott

Sweet! Sweet!

    "Sweet! Sweet!
    Come, come and eat,
    Dear little girls
    With yellow curls;
    For here you'll find
    Sweets to your mind.
    On every tree
    Sugar-plums you'll see;
    In every dell
    Grows the caramel.
    Over every wall
    Gum-drops fall;
    Molasses flows
    Where our river goes
    Under your feet
    Lies sugar sweet;
    Over your head
    Grow almonds red.
    Our lily and rose
    Are not for the nose;
    Our flowers we pluck
    To eat or suck
    And, oh! what bliss
    When two friends kiss,
    For they honey sip
    From lip to lip!
    And all you meet,
    In house or street,
    At work or play,
    Sweethearts are they.
    So, little dear,
  ...

Louisa May Alcott

Oh My Heart Is Sad And Weary

    'Oh my heart is sad and weary
    Everywhere I roam,
    Longing for the old plantation
    And for the old folks at home.'

Louisa May Alcott

Sweet! Sweet!

"Sweet! Sweet!
Come, come and eat,
Dear little girls
With yellow curls;
For here you'll find
Sweets to your mind.
On every tree
Sugar-plums you'll see;
In every dell
Grows the caramel.
Over every wall
Gum-drops fall;
Molasses flows
Where our river goes.
Under your feet
Lies sugar sweet;
Over your head
Grow almonds red.
Our lily and rose
Are not for the nose;
Our flowers we pluck
To eat or suck.
And, oh! what bliss
When two friends kiss,
For they honey sip
From lip to lip!
And all you meet,
In house or street,
At work or play,
Sweethearts are they.
So, little dear,
Pray feel no fear;
Go where you will;
Eat, eat your fill.
Here is a feast
From west to east;
And yo...

Louisa May Alcott