Annie Adams Fields

(1834-1915 / USA)

Annie Adams Fields Poems

1. The Song-Sparrow 10/19/2010
2. The Bird Of Autumn 10/19/2010
3. The Coronal 10/19/2010
4. The Cricket 10/19/2010
5. The First Thanksgiving Day After The War 10/19/2010
6. The Folding 10/19/2010
7. The Garden Of Fame 10/19/2010
8. The Haunts Of Poesy 10/19/2010
9. The Message 10/19/2010
10. The Mysteries Of Eleusis 10/19/2010
11. The Offering 10/19/2010
12. The Passing Of Tennyson 10/19/2010
13. The Poet's Choice 10/19/2010
14. The Poet's House 10/19/2010
15. The Prodigal's Return 10/19/2010
16. The Return 10/19/2010
17. The River Charles 10/19/2010
18. The Ruined Home 10/19/2010
19. The Seventh Sleeper 10/19/2010
20. The Soul Of The Poet 10/19/2010
21. The Traveler 10/19/2010
22. The Warder 10/19/2010
23. The Wing Of Faith 10/19/2010
24. Theocritus 10/19/2010
25. Tides 10/19/2010
26. To ----- 10/19/2010
27. To -----, Sleeping 10/19/2010
28. To A Poet's Memory 10/19/2010
29. To L. W. J.- On Her Birthday 10/19/2010
30. To One Whose Sight Was Failing. 10/19/2010
31. To The Children 10/19/2010
32. To The Dwellers In Houses 10/19/2010
33. Unchanged 10/19/2010
34. Upon A Mask Of An Unknown Woman's Face. 10/19/2010
35. Upon Revisiting A Green Nook 10/19/2010
36. Waiting 10/19/2010
37. Winter Lilacs 10/19/2010
38. A Thousand Years In 10/19/2010
39. Still In Thy Love I Trust 10/19/2010
40. The Hour Ye Know Not 10/19/2010
Best Poem of Annie Adams Fields

The Song-Sparrow

CAN you hear the sparrow in the lane
Singing above the graves? she said.
He knows my gladness, he knows my pain,
Though spring be over and summer be dead.

His note hath a chime all cannot hear,
And none can love him better than I;
For he sings to me when the land is drear,
And makes it cheerful even to die.

'T is beautiful on this odorous morn,
When grasses are waving in every wind,
To know my bird is not forlorn,
That summer to him is also kind, --

But sweeter, when grasses no longer stir
And every lilac-leaf is shed,
To know that my ...

Read the full of The Song-Sparrow

Defiance

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos!
All your gain is not my loss;
Spin your black threads if you will;
Twist them, turn, with all your skill;
Hold! there's one you cannot sever!
One bright thread shall last forever.

You are defied, you, Atropos!
Draw your glittering shears across, --

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