Lizette Woodworth Reese

(January 9, 1856 – December 17, 1935 / Waverly)

Lizette Woodworth Reese Poems

1. A Song For Candlemas 12/17/2011
2. Thomas À Kempis 12/17/2011
3. All Hallows Night 6/3/2015
4. To A Town Poet 12/17/2011
5. Writ In A Book Of Welsh Verse 12/17/2011
6. Trust 12/17/2011
7. A Violin At Dusk 12/1/2014
8. Lydia 12/17/2011
9. Anne 12/17/2011
10. Reserve 12/17/2011
11. Lydia Is Gone This Many A Year 12/17/2011
12. A Haunting Memory 12/17/2011
13. Keats 12/17/2011
14. A Holiday 12/17/2011
15. Daffodils 12/17/2011
16. The Deserted House 12/17/2011
17. A Flower Of Mullein 12/17/2011
18. Herbs 12/17/2011
19. Immortality 12/17/2011
20. A Little Song Of Life 12/17/2011
21. Telling The Bees 12/17/2011
22. Mid-March 12/17/2011
23. After 12/17/2011
24. Wise 4/21/2010
25. The Good Joan 4/21/2010
26. In Time Of Grief 12/17/2011
27. A Christmas Folk-Song 4/21/2010
28. That Day You Came 1/4/2003
29. Love Came Back At Fall O’ Dew 1/4/2003
30. Oh, Gray And Tender Is The Rain 1/13/2003
31. Spicewood 1/13/2003
32. A Rhyme Of Death's Inn 1/4/2003
33. Tears 1/4/2003

Comments about Lizette Woodworth Reese

  • Suzanne (10/24/2018 12:50:00 PM)

    Read TEARS, for the line about music

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  • Linda Daywalt (5/14/2012 8:25:00 AM)

    I am looking for a poem by Lizette Reese that includes these phrases describing life:
    -a blast of music down an unlistening street
    -a flight of uncarpeted stairs

    Can someone direct me to this poem?

  • Frieda Werden (12/18/2005 1:09:00 PM)

    After reading the poems on this site, I think there must be others of hers that are better and less sentimental - otherwise I can't believe an old atheist cynic like Mencken would be so fond of her.

  • Frieda Werden (12/18/2005 12:04:00 PM)

    'Lizette Woodworth Reese...has written more sound poetry, more genuinely eloquent and beautiful poetry, than all the New Poets put together - more than a whole posse of Masterses and Lindays, more than a hundred Amy Lowells.'

    -H.L. Mencken, in 'The New Poetry Movement' (found in the book: Prejudices, First Series, published in 1919 by Knopf)

Best Poem of Lizette Woodworth Reese


When I consider Life and its few years --
A wisp of fog betwixt us and the sun;
A call to battle, and the battle done
Ere the last echo dies within our ears;
A rose choked in the grass; an hour of fears;
The gusts that past a darkening shore do beat;
The burst of music down an unlistening street, --
I wonder at the idleness of tears.
Ye old, old dead, and ye of yesternight,
Chieftains, and bards, and keepers of the sheep,
By every cup of sorrow that you had,
Loose me from tears, and make me see aright
How each hath back what once he stayed to ...

Read the full of Tears


The spicewood burns along the gray, spent sky,
In moist unchimneyed places, in a wind,
That whips it all before, and all behind,
Into one thick, rude flame, now low, now high,
It is the first, the homeliest thing of all--
At sight of it, that lad that by it fares,
Whistles afresh his foolish, town-caught airs--
A thing so honey-colored, and so tall!

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