Augusta Davies Webster Poems

DEAR love, good-night. And, tender sleep
,Seal up her lids like these drowsed flowers,
To make day fair when they unclose.
...

SOFT voices of the woods, that make
The summer air a harmony,
Winged whispers through the leaves where wake
Long wind-wafts dying in a sigh,
...

Alas, I thought this forest must be true,
And would not change because of my changed eyes;
...

A week ago; only a little week:
it seems so much much longer, though that day
is every morning still my yesterday;
as all my life 'twill be my yesterday,
...

SOME quick kind tears, some easy sorrow,
And then 'tis past.
'Twas sad; yet sadness has its morrow;
...

WHITE rose sighed in the morn,
Red rose laughed in the noon,
And 'Sweetest sweetness is ended soon,'
And 'Never heed for the thorn.'
...

No, mother, I am not sad:
Why think me sad? I was always still,
You remember, even when my heart was most glad
And you used to let me dream at my will;
...

IN the world was one green nook I knew,
Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
...

BLITHE summer blossom, born too late,
Wilt make my desert garden fair?
Lo Winter's hand is on the gate,
His breath is in the curdling air.
...

DEAREST, this one day we own,
Stolen from the crowd and press,
Let it be sweet silence's.
...