her - Popular Poems and stories from category

Most truly honoured, and as truly dear,
If worth in me or ought I do appear,
Who can of right better demand the same Than may your worthy self from whom it came
The principal might yield a greater sum,

Your hands--they are strangely fair
O Fair--for the jewels that sparkle there,--Fair--for the witchery of the
That ivory keys alone can tell;
But when their delicate touches

Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five

Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exile, Step in your foot, come take a place, and mourn with me a while, And such as by their lords do set but little price, Let them sit still: it skills them not what chance come on the dice
But ye...

Her mind lives in a quiet room,
A narrow room, and tall,
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom And mottoes on the wall
There all the things are waxen neat And set in decorous lines;

Though thou did'st hear the tempest from afar,
And felt'st the horrors of the wat'ry war,
To me unknown, yet on this peaceful
Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar,

O her beautiful eyes
they are as blue as the dew On the violet's bloom when the morning is new, And the light of their love is the gleam of the sun O'er the meadows of Spring where the quick shadows run: As the morn shirts the mists and the c...

Nature, that washed her hands in milk,
And had forgot to dry them,
Instead of earth took snow and silk,
At love's request to try them,

She discovers a finish of dust on the felt drawer-bottoms, despite the long time it's been since she opened it or wore lipstick
Sometimes she's asked "What are you thinking of
" and she's so startled she says "Nothing,&quo...

The after-even
Ah, did I walk,  Indeed, in her or even
For nothing of me or around  But absent She did leaven,
Felt in my body as its soul,  And in my soul its heaven

With shimmer of steel and blare of brass,
And Switzers marching with martial stride,
And cavaliers trampling brown the grass,
Came bow—legged Charles through the Apennine pass,

"MY Fanny,
I have news to tell,
Your diligence quite pleases me;
You've work'd so neatly, read so well,