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Lizette Woodworth Reese

  • The sun pours out like wine.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Trust," A Quiet Road ()
  • April comes to his own, / But he hears in the grass, as he goes, / The Aprils that were ...

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "The Thrush in the Orchard," A Quiet Road ()
  • For I have scattered seed / Shall ripen at the end; / Old Age holds more than I shall need, / Death more than I can spend.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Growth," A Quiet Road ()
  • I have such plenty, yet am poor; / I pay my roof with tears / Shed for the time when I was young, / And unaware of years.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Growth," A Quiet Road ()
  • All in an April wood, / Dark Grief I met. / Dark Grief, now I am old, / Bides with me yet.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "A Song," A Quiet Road ()
  • 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.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Tears," in Scribner's ()
  • Who is in love with loveliness, / Need not shake with cold; / For he may tear a star in two, / And frock himself in gold. / Who holds her first within his heart, / In certain favor goes; / If his roof tumbles, he may find / Harbor in a rose.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Miracle," Wild Cherry ()
  • Creeds grow so thick along the way, / Their boughs hide God; I cannot pray.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Doubt," Selected Poems ()
  • The old faiths light their candles all about, / But burly Truth comes by and blows them out.

    • Lizette Woodworth Reese,
    • "Truth," Selected Poems ()
  • None of us ever escape the first few years of our lives. They make a mould into which we are cast, and though it may be broken, and we turned loose, some remnant of it, some intangible evil or lovely thing or both, will remain with us, like the odor to a flower, or the smoothness to a piece of ivory. It is part of the immortality of youth.

  • Thrice blessed are they whose early years are spent in some countryside. The flowering and withering of the seasons, and every exquisite sound and sight — every lane, and pasture, and green corners and gnarled hollows everywhere, make them affluent with a treasure which neither change nor chance can steal away.

  • To hear that your neighbor was worse off than yourself was not an altogether unpleasant experience.

  • For poetry, more than any other art, except music, has a compelling hold upon the spiritual side of life.

  • A child without an acquaintance of some kind with a classic of literature ... suffers from that impoverishment for the rest of his life. No later intimacy is like that of the first.

Lizette Woodworth Reese, U.S. poet, memoirist, educator

(1856 - 1935)