To My Lady

"There are no flowers in the fields,
No green leaves on the tree,
No columbines, no violets,
No sweet anemone.
So I have gathered from my pots
All that I have to fill
The basket that I hang to-night,
With heaps of love from Jill."

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

He That Is Down Need Fear No Fall

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Hello! Hello!

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

Oh, Peggy Was A Jolly Lass

Louisa May Alcott, Simple Poetry

English

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Mountain--Laurel

My bonnie flower, with truest joy
Thy welcome face I see,
The world grows brighter to my eyes,
And summer comes with thee.
My solitude now finds a friend,
And after each hard day,
I in my mountain garden walk,
To rest, or sing, or pray.

All down the rocky slope is spread
Thy veil of rosy snow,
And in the valley by the brook,
Thy deeper blossoms grow.
The barren wilderness grows fair,
Such beauty dost thou give;
And human eyes and Nature's heart
Rejoice that thou dost live.

Each year I wait thy coming, dear,
Each year I love thee more,
For life grows hard, and much I need
Thy honey for my store.
So, like a hungry bee, I sip
Sweet lessons from thy cup,
And sitting at a flower's feet,
My soul learns to look up.
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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

Sweetest Of Maidens, Oh, How Can I Tell

    'Sweetest of maidens, oh, how can I tell
    The love that transfigures the whole earth to me?
    The longing that causes my bosom to swell,
    When I dream of a life all devoted to thee?'

Louisa May Alcott

Dear Grif

"Dear Grif,
Here is a whiff
Of beautiful spring flowers;
The big red rose
Is for your nose,
As toward the sky it towers.


"Oh, do not frown
Upon this crown
Of green pinks and blue geranium
But think of me
When this you see,
And put it on your cranium."

Louisa May Alcott

To A Lady - In Answer To A Request That I Would Write Her A Poem Upon Some Drawings That She Had Made Of Flowers In The Island Of Madeira

Fair Lady! can I sing of flowers
That in Madeira bloom and fade,
I who ne'er sate within their bowers,
Nor through their sunny lawns have strayed?
How they in sprightly dance are worn
By Shepherd-groom or May-day queen,
Or holy festal pomps adorn,
These eyes have never seen.

Yet tho' to me the pencil's art
No like remembrances can give,
Your portraits still may reach the heart
And there for gentle pleasure live;
While Fancy ranging with free scope
Shall on some lovely Alien set
A name with us endeared to hope,
To peace, or fond regret.

Still as we look with nicer care,
Some new resemblance we may trace:
A 'Heart's-ease' will perhaps be there,
A 'Speedwell' may not want its place.
And so may we, with charmed mind
Beholding w...

William Wordsworth

Lily-Bell

"Bright shines the summer sun,
Soft is the summer air;
Gayly the wood-birds sing,
Flowers are blooming fair.

"But, deep in the dark, cold rock,
Sadly I dwell,
Longing for thee, dear friend,
Lily-Bell! Lily-Bell!"


"Through sunlight and summer air
I have sought for thee long,
Guided by birds and flowers,
And now by thy song.

"Thistledown! Thistledown!
O'er hill and dell
Hither to comfort thee
Comes Lily-Bell."

Louisa May Alcott