Dear love, where the red lillies blossomed and grew, …
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
After the fierce midsummer all ablaze …
I love your lips when they’re wet with wine …
If, when I die, I must be buried, let …
No classes here! Why, that is idle talk. …
Oh, what am I but an engine, shod …
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; …
Into the gloom of the deep, dark night, …
Somebody’s baby was buried to-day— …
Alone it stands in Poesy’s fair land, …
There is something in the sound of drum and fife …