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SUSAN COOLIDGE
(PSEUDONYM OF SARAH CHAUNCEY WOOLSEY)
American author
(c. 1845 - 1905)

All green and fair the Summer lies,
  Just budded from the bud of Spring,
    With tender blue of wistful skies,
      And winds which softly sing.
      - [Summer]

Every day is a fresh beginning,
  Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,
    And spite of old sorrow, and older sinning,
      And troubles forecasted, and possible pain,
        Take heart with the day, and begin again.
      - [New Year's Day]

Now the last red ray is gone;
  Now the twilight shadows hie.
      - [Twilight]

O word and thing most beautiful!
      - [Morning]

The sobbing wind is fierce and strong; its cry is like a human wail.
      - [Wind]

We ring the bells and we raise the strain,
  We hang up garlands everywhere
    And bid the tapers twinkle fair,
      And feast and frolic--and then we go
        Back to the same old lives again.
      - [Christmas]

Every tear is answered by a blossom,
  Every sigh with songs and laughter blent,
    April-blooms upon the breezes toss them.
      April knows her own, and is content.
      - April [April]

In the deep shadow of the porch
  A slender bind-weed springs,
    And climbs, like airy acrobat,
      The trellises, and swings
        And dances in the golden sun
          In fairy loops and rings.
      - Bind-Weed [Weeds]

All night the thirsty beach has listening lain
  With patience dumb,
    Counting the slow, said moments of her pain;
      Now morn has come,
        And with the morn the punctual tide again.
      - Flood-Tide [Tides]

Spring's last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet,
  Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet,
    And golden locks in breezy play,
      Half teasing and half tender, to repeat
        Her song of "May."
      - May [May]

Dry leaves upon the wall,
  Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape,
    A single frosted cluster on the grape
      Still hangs--and that is all.
      - November [November]

The punctual tide draws up the bay,
  With ripple of wave and hiss of spray.
      - On the Shore [Tides]

"So the Bluebirds have contracted, have they, for a house?
  And a next is under way for little Mr. Wren?"
    "Hush, dear, hush! Be quiet, dear! quiet as a mouse.
      These are weighty secrets, and we must whisper them."
      - Secrets [Bluebirds]

Men die, but sorrow never dies;
  The crowding years divide in vain,
    And the wide world is knit with ties
      Of common brotherhood in pain.
      - The Cradle Tomb in Westminster Abbey
        [Sorrow]

Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose
  From out night's gray and cloudy sheath;
    Softly and still it grows and grows,
      Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.
      - The Morning Comes Before the Sun [Morning]

Every Fern is tucked and set,
  'Neath coverlet,
    Downy and soft and warm.
      - Time to Go [Winter]

They know the time to go!
  The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour
    In field and woodland, and each punctual flower
      Bows at the signal an obedient head
        And hastens to bed.
      - Time to Go [Flowers]


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