Poetessa, nato venerdì 10 dicembre 1830 a Amherst, Massachusetts (USA - Stati Uniti d'America), morto sabato 15 maggio 1886 a Amherst, Massachusetts (USA - Stati Uniti d'America)
In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go, Vailing the purple, and the plumes - Vailing the ermine so. Smiling, as they request an alms At some imposing door - Smiling when we walk barefoot Upon their golden floo.
I had some things that I called mine - And God, that he called his - Till, recently a rival Claim Disturbed these amities. The property, my garden, Which having sown with care, He claims the pretty acre, And sends a Bailiff there.
The station of the parties Forbids publicity, But Justice is sublimer Than arms, or pedigree.
I'll institute an "Action" - I'll vindicate the law - Jove! Choose your counsel - I retain "Shaw"!
What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord? Where the maids? Behold, what curious rooms! No ruddy fires on the hearth - No brimming tankards flow - Necromancer! Landlord! Who are these below.
"Good night", because we must! How intricate the Dust! I would go, to know - Oh Incognito! Saucy, saucy Seraph, To elude me so! Father! They wont tell me! Wont you tell them to?
Our share of night to bear - Our share of morning - Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning - Here a star, and there a star, Some lose their way! Here a mist - and there a mist - Afterwards - Day!
The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly - The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially - The Brooks laugh louder When I come - The Breezes madder play; Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists, Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?
L'Ape non è impaurita da me. Conosco la Farfalla - Il grazioso popolo dei Boschi Mi riceve cordialmente - I Ruscelli ridono più forte Quando arrivo - Più folli giocano le Brezze; Perché il tuo argento mi appanna la vista, Perché, Oh Giorno d'Estate?
Where bells no more affright the morn - Where scrabble never comes - Where very nimble Gentlemen Are forced to keep their rooms - Where tired Children placid sleep Thro' Centuries of noon This place is Bliss - this town is Heaven - Please, Pater, pretty soon!
"Oh could we climb where Moses stood, And view the Landscape o'er" Not Father's bells - nor Factories, Could scare us any more!
By a flower - By a letter - By a nimble love - If I weld the Rivet faster - Final fast - above - Never mind my breathless Anvil! Never mind Repose! Never mind the sooty faces Tugging at the Forge!