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FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD
American poet
(1811 - 1850)
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An angel face! its sunny "wealth of hair,"
  In radiant ripples, bathed the graceful throat
    And dimpled shoulders.
      - [Hair]

An exile, ill in heart and frame,--
  A wanderer, weary of the way;--
    A stranger, without love's sweet claim
      On any heart, go where I may!
      - [Exile]

And wheresoever, in his rich creation,
  Sweet music breathes--in wave, or bird, or soul--
    'Tis but the faint and far reverberation
      Of that great tune to which the planets roll!
      - [Music]

And yet we check and chide
  The airy angels as they float about us,
    With rules of so-called wisdom, till they grow
      The same tame slaves to custom and the world.
      - [Children]

Beneath her drooping lashes slept a world of eloquent meaning; passionate but pure, dreamy, subdued, but, oh, how beautiful!
      - [Eyes]

Better confide and be deceiv'd,
  A thousand times, by treacherous foes,
    Than once accuse the innocent,
      Or let suspicion mar repose.
      - [Suspicion]

Call me names, dearest! Call me thy bird
  That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word,
    That folds its wild wings there, ne'er dreaming of flight,
      That tenderly sings there in loving delight!
        Oh! my sad heart keeps pining for one fond word,--
          Call me pet names, dearest! Call me thy bird!
      - [Names]

Did you ever hear
  Of the frolic fairies dear?
    They're a blessed little race,
      Peeping up in fancy's face,
        In the valley, on the hill,
          By the fountain and the rill;
            Laughing out between the leaves
              That the loving summer weaves.
      - [Fairies]

Fancy is a fairy, that can hear
  Ever, the melody of nature's voice,
    And see all lovely visions that she will.
      - [Fancy]

Give me the eloquent cheek,
  When blushes burn and die
    Like thine its changes speak,
      The spirit's purity.
      - [Blushes]

He whom nature thus bereaves,
  Is ever fancy's favourite child;
    For thee enchanted dreams she weaves
      Of changeful beauty, bright and wild.
      - [Blindness]

I cannot tell thee, hour by hour,
  That I adore thee dearly;
    I cannot talk of passion's power--
      But oh! I feel sincerely!
      - [Talking]

I love a hand that meets mine own
  With grasp that causes some sensation.
      - [Hand]

Labor! all labor is noble and holy!
  Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.
      - [Labor]

Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; work with a stout heart and resolute will.
      - [Work]

Love is the greatest of educators.
      - [Education]

No grief so soft, no pain so sweet, as love's delicious melancholy.
      - [Melancholy]

The violet droops its soft and bashful brow,
  But from its heart sweet incense fills the air;--
    So rich within--so pure without--art thou,
      With modest mien and soul of virtue rare.
      - [Modesty]

Those laughing orbs, that borrow
  From azure-skies the light they wear,
    Are like heaven--no sorrow
      Can float o'er hues so fair.
      - [Eyes]

To hallow'd duty
  Here with a loyal and heroic heart,
    Bind we our lives.
      - [Duty]

With strength to meet sorrow, and faith to endure.
      - [Fidelity]

Within the oyster's shell uncouth
  The purest pearl may hide,
    Trust me you'll find a heart of truth
      Within that rough outside.
      - [Appearance]

The violet thinks, with her timid blue eye,
  To pass for a blossom enchantingly shy.
      - Garden Gossip (st. 3) [Violets]

The wealth of rich feelings--the deep--the pure;
  With strength to meet sorrow, and faith to endure.
      - To F.D. Maurice [Feeling]

Labor is life! 'Tis the still water faileth;
  Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;
    Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth.
      - To Labor is to Pray [Labor]


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