Louisa May Alcott

Louisa May Alcott

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Louisa May Alcott (November 29, 1832 – March 6, 1888) was an American novelist, short story writer and poet best known as the author of the novel Little Women (1868) and its sequels Little Men (1871) and Jo's Boys (1886).
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HE moon upon the wide sea Placidly looks down,
Smiling with her mild face,
Though the ocean frown
Clouds may dim her brightness,
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The moonlight fades from flower and
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done
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Oh
a bare, brown
Stood up in the sea,
The waves at its
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"I write about the butterfly, It is a pretty thing; And flies about like the birds, But it does not sing
"First it is a little grub, And then it is a nice yellow cocoon, And then the butterfly Eats its way out soon
"They l...
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Thistledown in prison sings:
Bright shines the summer sun,
Soft is the summer air;
Gayly the wood-birds sing,
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"J'avais une colombe blanche, J'avais un blanc petit pigeon, Tous deux volaient, de branche en branche, Jusqu'au faîte de mon dongeon: Mais comme un coup de vent d'automne, S'est abattu là, l'épervier, Et ma colombe si mignonne Ne revient plu...
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TE my chamber window,
On the sunny roof, at play,
High above the city's tumult,
Flocks of doves sit day by day
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I am the monarch of the Sea, The ruler of the Queen's Navee,-- When at anchor here I ride, My bosom swells with pride, And I snap my fingers at a foeman's taunts
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts His sisters and his cousin...
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Little shadows, little
Dancing on the chamber wall,
While I sit beside the
Where the red flames rise and fall
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"Gingerbread,    Go to the head
Your task is done;    A soul is won
Take it and go    Where muffins grow,    Where sweet loaves rise    To the very skies,    And biscuits fair    Perfume the air
Away, away
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"I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty; I woke, and found that life was duty
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie
Toil on, sad heart, courageously, And thou shall find thy dream to be A noonday light and truth to thee
"...
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Now the day is done,
Now the shepherd
Drives his white flocks from the sky;
Now the flowers
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Oft, in the silence of the night, When the lonely moon rides high,
When wintry winds are whistling, And we hear the owl's shrill cry,
In the quiet, dusky chamber, By the flickering firelight,
Rising up between two sleepers, Comes a ...
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"Beds to the front of them, Beds to the right of them, Beds to the left of them, Nobody blundered
Beamed at by hungry souls, Screamed at with brimming bowls, Steamed at by army rolls, Buttered and sundered
With coffee not cannon pli...
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Awake
Awake
for the earliest
Of golden sunlight
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O flower at my
Why blossom you so fair,
With your green and purple
Upturned to sun and air
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