Author: Lizette Woodworth Reese

The spicewood burns along the gray, spent sky, In moist unchimneyed places, in a wind, That whips it all before, […]

Such special sweetness was about That day God sent you here, I knew the lavender was out, And it was […]

Love came back at fall o’ dew, Playing his old part; But I had a word or two That would […]

A rhyme of good Death’s inn! My love came to that door; And she had need of many things, The […]