Chapter I: Am the Wind

I am the wind that wavers,
You are the certain land;
I am the shadow that passes
Over the sand.

I am the leaf that quivers,
You--the unshaken tree;
You are the stars that are steadfast,
I am the sea.

You are the light eternal,
Like a torch I shall die....
You are the surge of deep music,
I--but a cry!

_Zoë Akins_

SERVICE

If I could only serve him,
How sweet this life would be.
Last night I dreamed my darling,
Alive, returned to me.

I brought him from the cupboard
The things he liked to eat,--
The little piece of honey,
The rye bread and the meat.

I sang the song he asked for
The night he went away.
How was it, when I loved him,
I could have said him nay!

I took the time to please him,
With a hand upon his brow.
Amid the awful leisure
There was no hurry now.

How strange I once denied him
What took so little while.
A kiss would seem so simple,
So slight a thing a smile.

With pleased sweet looks of wonder
He took what I could give,--
Such words as we deny them
Only because they live.

The pale light of the morning
Shone in upon the wall.
Come back to me, my darling,
And I will give you all.

_Anna Hempstead Branch_

PARTING

Dear Love, it was so hard to say
Good-bye to-day!
You turned to go, yet going turned to stay!
Till suddenly at last you went away.

Then all at last I found my love unsaid,
And bowed my head;
And went in tears up to my lonely bed--
Oh, would it be like this if you were dead?

_Alice Freeman Palmer_

FRIENDSHIP AFTER LOVE

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
In the intensity of its own fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze;
So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his own throes, and torments, and desires
Comes large-eyed friendship; with a restful gaze,
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool, verdant vales we wander free from care--
Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox_

THE MESSAGE

“Oh, have you not a message, you who come over the sea?
Have you not a message or word at all for me?”

“I have sailed, sailed, sailed where the seas are green and blue,
I’ve silver, gold and merchandise--but never a word for you.”

“But did you see my love by any way you came?
For if you saw my love, he must have spoke my name.”

“Oh, yes, I saw your love--oh, yes, and he was gay
Riding in his coach-and-six all on his birthday.”

“But when you spoke of me, of me--oh! what was it he said?”
“Oh, he never said a word at all, but turned away his head.”

_Margaret Sackville_

THE OTHER

I am the Other--I who come
To heal the wound she gave,
The wound that struck your fond words dumb,
And left your world a grave.

What though you loved her--I love you,
And so the most is said,
Here is my yearning heart, still true
To yours her frailty bled.

(But oh! the bitter grief that I
Kept hushed, the wild despair,
When your dear eyes had passed me by
To find her face so fair.)

Now she hath gone her cruel way,
And I am come again,
To seek among the husks to-day,
For one sweet golden grain.

Because in me Love’s strength is great,
Too great for pride, or sin,
I knock upon your heart’s barred gate,
And pray you let me in.

_Ethna Carbery_

THE RAINBOW

Whose doorway was it, in the sordid street,
That gave us shelter from the sudden rain,--
Two vagrant sparrows on a dripping branch,
Waiting a moment to spread wing again?

The beggar children danced through pavement pools
Barefoot and joyous, splashing at their will;
The rain washed green that dusty sycamore
And straws swirled wildly down the gutter’s rill.

Fast-breathing from the run, our hands still clasped,
We leaned out laughing, shaking free our hair
Of dewy drops, while still the clouds poured down
A freshness that made heavenly the air.

Then we both saw, above the sodden world,
The Rainbow like a miracle appear,
And you said, whispering, “Oh, kiss me once
Before it fades!”--“Kiss me then quickly, Dear!”

One warm sweet touch of lips--then forth we went
Oblivious of all the rain and wet.
To-day I saw a rainbow after rain....
My heart remembered then--does yours forget?

_Vine Colby_

LOVE CAME BACK AT FALL O’ DEW

Love came back at fall o’ dew,
Playing his old part;
But I had a word or two
That would break his heart.

“He who comes at candle-light,
That should come before,
Must betake him to the night
From a barrèd door.”

This the word that made us part
In the fall o’ dew;
This the word that brake his heart--
Yet it brake mine, too.

_Lizette Woodworth Reese_

FROM A CAR-WINDOW

Pines, and a blur of lithe young grasses;
Gold in a pool, from the western glow;
Spread of wings where the last thrush passes--
And thoughts of you as the sun dips low.

Quiet lane, and an irised meadow ...
(_How many summers have died since then?_) ...
I wish you knew how the deepening shadow
Lies on the blue and green again!

Dusk, and the curve of field and hollow
Etched in gray when a star appears:
Sunset, ... twilight, ... and dark to follow, ...
And thoughts of you through a mist of tears.

_Ruth Guthrie Harding_

THE SILLER CROWN

“And ye sall walk in silk attire,
And siller hae to spare,
Gin ye’ll consent to be his bride,
Nor think o’ Donald mair.”

O, wha wad buy a silken gown
Wi’ a puir broken heart?
Or what’s to me a siller crown
Gin frae my love I part?

The mind whose meanest wish is pure
Far dearest is to me,
And ere I’m forced to break my faith,
I’ll lay me down and dee.

For I hae vowed a virgin’s vow
My lover’s faith to share,
An’ he has gi’en to me his heart,
An’ what can man do mair?

His mind and manners won my heart,
He gratefu’ took the gift,
An’ did I wish to seek it back
It wad be waur than theft.

The langest life can ne’er repay
The love he bears to me,
And ere I’m forced to break my faith,
I’ll lay me down an’ dee.

_Susanna Blamire_

“CUTTIN’ RUSHES”

Oh, maybe it was yesterday, or fifty years ago!
Meself was risin’ early on a day for cuttin’ rushes.
Walkin’ up the Brabla’ burn, still the sun was low,
Now I’d hear the burn run an’ then I’d hear the thrushes.
_Young, still young!_--and drenchin’ wet the grass,
Wet the golden honeysuckle hangin’ sweetly down;
_Here, lad, here!_ will ye follow where I pass,
An’ find me cuttin’ rushes on the mountain.

Then was it only yesterday, or fifty years or so?
_Rippin’_ round the bog pools high among the heather,
The hook it made me hand sore, I had to leave it go,
’Twas he that cut the rushes then for me to bind together.
_Come, dear, come!_--an’ back along the burn
See the darlin’ honeysuckle hangin’ like a crown.
_Quick, one kiss_,--sure, there’s some one at the turn!
“Oh, we’re afther cuttin’ rushes on the mountain.”

Yesterday, yesterday, or fifty years ago....
I waken out o’ dreams when I hear the summer thrushes.
Oh, that’s the Brabla’ burn, I can hear it sing an’ flow,
For all that’s fair I’d sooner see a bunch o’ green rushes.
_Run, burn, run!_ can ye mind when we were young?
The honeysuckle hangs above, the pool is dark an’ brown:
_Sing, burn, sing!_ can ye mind the song ye sung
The day we cut the rushes on the mountain?

_Moira O’Neill_

TO A LATE COMER

Why didst thou come into my life so late?
If it were morning I could welcome thee
With glad all-hails, and bid each hour to be
The willing servitor of thine estate,
Lading thy brave ships with Time’s richest freight;
If it were noonday I might hope to see
On some fair height thy banners floating free,
And hear the acclaiming voices call thee great!
But it is nightfall and the stars are out;
Far in the west the crescent moon hangs low,
And near at hand the lurking shadows wait;
Darkness and silence gather round about,
Lethe’s black stream is near its overflow,--
Ah, friend, dear friend, why didst thou come so late?

_Julia C. R. Dorr_

CARNATIONS

_Carnations and my first love!_ And he was seventeen,
And I was only twelve years--a stately gulf between!
I broke them on the morning the school-dance was to be,
To pin among my ribbons in hopes that he might see....
And all the girls stood breathless to watch as he came through
With curly crest and grand air that swept the heart from you!
And why he paused at my side is more than I can know--
Shyest of the small girls who all adored him so--
I said it with my prayer-times: I walked with head held high:
“_Carnations are your flower!_” he said as he strode by.

_Carnations and my first love!_ The years are passed a score,
And I recall his first name, and scarce an eyelash more....
And those were all the love-words that either of us said--
Perhaps he may be married--perhaps he may be dead.
And yet, ... to smell carnations, their spicy, heavy sweet,
Perfuming all some sick-room, or passing on the street,
Then ... still the school-lamps flicker, and still the Lancers play,
And still the girls hold breathless to watch him go his way,
And still my child-heart quivers with that first ecstasy--
“_Carnations are your flower!_” my first love says to me!

_Margaret Widdemer_

A REMINISCENCE

It is so long gone by, and yet
How clearly now I see it all!
The glimmer of your cigarette,
The little chamber, narrow and tall.

Perseus; your picture in its frame;
(How near they seem and yet how far!)
The blaze of kindled logs; the flame
Of tulips in a mighty jar.

Florence and spring-time: surely each
Glad things unto the spirit saith.
Why did you lead me in your speech
To these dark mysteries of death?

_Amy Levy_

DIRGE

Never the nightingale;
Oh, my dear,
Never again the lark,
Thou wilt hear.
Though dusk and the morning still
Tap at thy window-sill,
Though ever love call and call,
Thou wilt not hear at all,
My dear, my dear.

_Adelaide Crapsey_

“TO-DAY I WENT AMONG THE MOUNTAIN FOLK”

To-day I went among the mountain folk
To hear the gentle talk most dear to me.
I saw slow tears, and tenderness that woke
From sternest bed to light a lamp for thee.
And “Is it true?” hope asked and asked again,
And “It is true,” was all that I could say,
And pride rose over love to hide gray pain
As eyes tears might ungrace were turned away.
So much they loved thee I was half decoyed
By human warmth to feel thee near, but when
I put my hand out all the earth was void,
And vanished even these near-weeping men.
Thus each new time I find that thou art gone,
Anew do I survive the world, alone.

_Olive Tilford Dargan_

AN APRIL GHOST

All the ghosts I ever knew,
White, and thinly calling,
Come into the house with you,
When the dew is falling.

All of youth that ever died,
In the Spring-time weather,
In the windy April tide,
Climb the dusk together.

For a moment, lad and maid
Stand up there all lonely;
In a moment fade and fade--
You are left, you only.

_Lizette Woodworth Reese_

THE DEEP-SEA PEARL

The love of my life came not
As love unto others is cast;
For mine was a secret wound--
But the wound grew a pearl, at last.

The divers may come and go,
The tides, they arise and fall;
The pearl in its shell lies sealed,
And the Deep Sea covers all.

_Edith M. Thomas_

AULD ROBIN GRAY

When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye’s come hame,
And a’ the weary warld to rest are gane,
The waes o’ my heart fa’ in showers frae my ee,
Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me.

Young Jamie lo’ed me weel, and sought me for his bride,
But saving ae crown-piece he had naething beside;
To make the crown a pound my Jamie gaed to sea,
And the crown and the pound--they were baith for me.

He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day,
When my father brake his arm and the cow was stown away;
My mither she fell sick--my Jamie was at sea,
And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me.

My father couldna wark--my mither couldna spin--
I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win;
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi’ tears in his ee,
Said: “Jeanie, O for their sakes, will ye no marry me?”

My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back,
But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack;
His ship was a wrack--why didna Jamie dee?
Or why am I spared to cry wae is me?

My father urged me sair--my mither didna speak,
But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break;
They gied him my hand--my heart was in the sea--
And so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.

I hadna been his wife a week but only four,
When, mournfu’ as I sat on the stane at my door,
I saw my Jamie’s ghaist, for I couldna think it he,
Till he said: “I’m come hame, love, to marry thee!”

Oh, sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a’,
I gied him ae kiss, and bade him gang awa’--
I wish that I were dead, but I’m na like to dee,
For, though my heart is broken, I’m but young, wae is me!

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin,
I darena think o’ Jamie, for that wad be a sin,
But I’ll do my best a gude wife to be,
For, oh! Robin Gray, he is kind to me.

_Anne Barnard_

FINIS

Even for you I shall not weep
When I at last, at last am dead,
Nor turn and sorrow in my sleep
Though you should linger overhead.

Even of you I shall not dream
Beneath the waving graveyard grass;
One with the soul of wind and stream
I shall not heed you if you pass.

Even for you I would not wake,
Too bitter were the tears I knew,
Too dark the road I needs must take--
The road that winds away from you.

_Rosamund Marriott Watson_

“GRANDMITHER, THINK NOT I FORGET”

Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town,
An’ wander the old ways again an’ tread them up an’ down.
I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass,
Without I mind how good ye were unto a little lass.
I never hear the winter rain a-pelting all night through,
Without I think and mind me of how cold it falls on you.
And if I come not often to your bed beneath the thyme,
Mayhap ’tis that I’d change wi’ ye, and gie my bed for thine,
Would like to sleep in thine.

I never hear the summer winds among the roses blow,
Without I wonder why it was ye loved the lassie so.
Ye gave me cakes and lollipops and pretty toys a score,--
I never thought I should come back and ask ye now for more.
Grandmither, gie me your still, white hands, that lie upon your breast,
For mine do beat the dark all night and never find me rest;
They grope among the shadows an’ they beat the cold black air,
They go seekin’ in the darkness, an’ they never find him there,
An’ they never find him there.

Grandmither, gie me your sightless eyes, that I may never see
His own a-burnin’ full o’ love that must not shine for me.
Grandmither, gie me your peaceful lips, white as the kirkyard snow,
For mine be red wi’ burnin’ thirst an’ he must never know.
Grandmither, gie me your clay-stopped ears, that I may never hear
My lad a-singin’ in the night when I am sick wi’ fear;
A-singin’ when the moonlight over a’ the land is white--
Oh God! I’ll up an’ go to him a-singin’ in the night,
A-callin’ in the night.

Grandmither, give me your clay-cold heart that has forgot to ache,
For mine be fire within my breast and yet it cannot break.
It beats an’ throbs forever for the things that must not be,--
An’ can ye not let me creep in an’ rest awhile by ye?
A little lass afeared o’ dark slept by ye years agone--
Ah, she has found what night can hold ’twixt sunset an’ the dawn!
So when I plant the rose an’ rue above your grave for ye,
Ye’ll know it’s under rue an’ rose that I would like to be,
That I would like to be.

_Willa Sibert Cather_

THE PASSER-BY

Step lightly across the floor,
And somewhat more tender be.

There were many that passed my door,
Many that sought after me.
I gave them the passing word--
Ah, why did I give thee more?
I gave thee what could not be heard,
What had not been given before;
The beat of my heart I gave....
And I give thee this flower on my grave.

My face in the flower thou mayst see.
Step lightly across the floor.

_Edith M. Thomas_

“WHEN I AM DEAD”

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet:
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

_Christina Rossetti_

REQUIESCAT

Bury me deep when I am dead,
Far from the woods where sweet birds sing;
Lap me in sullen stone and lead,
Lest my poor dust should feel the Spring.

Never a flower be near me set,
Nor starry cup nor slender stem,
Anemone nor violet,
Lest my poor dust remember them.

And you--wherever you may fare--
Dearer than birds, or flowers, or dew--
Never, ah me, pass never there,
Lest my poor dust should dream of you.

_Rosamund Marriott Watson_

“DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, TENDER AND TRUE”

Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,
I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
I’d smile on ye sweet as the angels do;--
Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Oh, to call back the days that are not!
My eyes were blinded, your words were few;
Do you know the truth now up in heaven,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

I never was worthy of you, Douglas;
Not half worthy the like of you:
Now all men beside seem to me like shadows--
I love you, Douglas, tender and true.

Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;
As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

_Dinah Mulock Craik_

UNWEDDED

Along her tranquil way she went,
The slow, sad course of changeless years,
While in her burned her youth unspent,
Dulled sometimes by her gentle tears.

In richer lives she saw the strange,
Sweet urgency of wedded days;
In dreams she watched her pale light change,
Into the steadfast altar blaze.

And, waking, sadly bowed above
Her slender vestal flame and wept;
Ah, better were the house of love,
By blighting fire and tempest swept.

_Ada Foster Murray_

UNFULFILLED

I read the pain and pathos of your eyes,
The aftermath of anguish in your smile,
And yet I can but envy you the while!
Your heart has bled, an ardent sacrifice
To Love’s fulfillment. You have paid the price
Of keen, fierce living; nor can aught defile
The joys that once have been--they still beguile
The tear-swept memory that Time defies.

My soul’s adventure, pallid, incomplete,
Has lingered in the twilight, for my heart
Has dwelt aloof in some dim atmosphere
Betwixt the Earth and Heaven. My alien feet
Have known nor Pain nor its great counterpart.
I, who have never loved, may shed no tear.

_Corinne Roosevelt Robinson_

A LYNMOUTH WIDOW

He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue
As the summer meeting of sky and sea,
And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue
Than flushed his cheek when he married me.

We passed the porch where the swallows breed,
We left the little brown church behind,
And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need,
Only to feel him so strong and kind.

One thing I never can quite forget;
It grips my throat when I try to pray--
The keen salt smell of a drying net
That hung on the churchyard wall that day.

He would have taken a long, long grave--
A long, long grave, for he stood so tall....
Oh, God! the crash of a breaking wave,
And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall!

_Amelia Josephine Burr_

“LESS THAN THE DUST”

Less than the dust, beneath thy Chariot wheel,
Less than the rust, that never stained thy Sword,
Less than the trust thou hast in me, O Lord,
Even less than these!

Less than the weed, that grows beside thy door,
Less than the speed of hours spent far from thee,
Less than the need thou hast in life of me.
Even less am I.

Since I, O Lord, am nothing unto thee,
See here thy Sword, I make it keen and bright,
Love’s last reward, Death, comes to me to-night,
Farewell, Zahir-u-din.

_Laurence Hope_

NORAH

I knew his house by the poplar trees--
Green and silvery in the breeze;

“A heaven-high hedge,” were the words he said,
“And holly-hocks--pink and white and red....”

It seemed so far from McChesney’s Hall
Where first he told me about it all....

A long path runs inside from the gate,
He still can take it early or late;

But where in the world is a path for me--
Except the river that runs to the sea!

_Zoë Akins_

THE MAN

The flame is spent, I can no more
Hold the tall candle by your door;
Too often have I watched to see
Your lagging steps come home to me.

The Tyrian traders taught me this:
They came perfumed with ambergris,
With amethystine robes, and hair
Curled by the kisses of salt air.

They mocked me for my weary hands
Holding your light as love demands;
They sang the lure of poppied sleep,
Their lips were warm, their eyes were deep.

The flame is spent--your pale, weak face
Must seek another resting place;
Win me and hold me now who can--
The Tyrian trader was a man.

_Helen Hay Whitney_

“UNDER DUSKY LAUREL LEAF”

Under dusky laurel leaf,
Scarlet leaf of rose,
I lie prone, who have known
All a woman knows--

Love and grief and motherhood,
Fame and mirth and scorn;
These are all shall befall
Any woman born.

Jewel-laden are my hands,
Tall my stone above;
Do not weep that I sleep
Who was wise in love;

Where I walk a shadow gray
Through gray asphodel,
I am glad, who have had
All that Life could tell.

_Margaret Widdemer_

INDEXES

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

Across the shimmering meadows, 34

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze, 84

Against the planks of the cabin side, 73

Ah, Love, I cannot die, I cannot go, 77

All the ghosts I ever knew, 102

Along her tranquil way she went, 116

And if I came not again, 54

And ye sall walk in silk attire, 92

As a little child I come, 40

As the mother bird to the waiting nest, 24

At Loschwitz above the city, 2

Be not angry with me that I bear, 27

Before I trust my fate to thee, 47

Belovèd, my belovèd, when I think, 26

Bury me deep when I am dead, 113

_Carnations and my first love!_ and he was seventeen, 97

Come back to me, who wait and watch for you, 69

Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas, 114

Cover mine eyes, O my Love!, 35

Dear Love, it was so hard to say, 83

Even for you I shall not weep, 107

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand, 64

Good-bye!--no, do not grieve that it is over, 66

Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town, 108

He was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue, 118

He whistled soft whistlings I knew were for me, 14

Hill people turn to their hills, 23

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, 43

I am the Other--I who come, 86

I am the wind that wavers, 80

I came into your room and spoke, 58

I cannot always feel his greatness, 37

I have always hated the rain, 29

I have seen the proudest stars, 3

I have wandered to a spring in the forest green and dim, 5

I knew his house by the poplar trees, 120

I leaned out my window, I smelt the white clover, 31

I love my life, but not too well, 59

I love thee, dear, and knowing mine own heart, 51

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, 65

I must not yield ... but if he would not sing!, 63

I read the pain and pathos of your eyes, 117

I sat among the green leaves, and heard the nuts falling, 13

I say it to comfort me over and over, 72

I’ve learned to say it carelessly, 30

I went out to the farthest meadow, 8

I went to dig a grave for Love, 67

I will arise and go hence to the west, 10

I will not give thee all my heart, 56

If I could only serve him, 81

If thou must love me, let it be for nought, 41

It is so long gone by, and yet, 99

Less than the dust, beneath thy Chariot wheel, 119

Let us forget we loved each other much, 76

Love came back at fall o’ dew, 90

Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike, 70

Love me at last, or if you will not, 6

Many in aftertimes will say of you, 78

My Dear was a mason, 36

My debt to you, Belovèd, 46

My heart is like a singing bird, 17

My life closed twice before its close, 53

Never the nightingale, 100

Now evening comes. Now stirs my discontent, 68

O my Lover, blind me, 42

O strong sun of heaven, harm not my love, 21

Of all the souls that stand create, 19

Oh, have you not a message, you who come over the sea?, 85

Oh! I know why the alder trees, 39

Oh, maybe it was yesterday, or fifty years ago!, 94

Oh, the burden, the burden of love ungiven, 12

Oh, when I saw your eyes, 18

Out of the window the trees in the Square, 7

Pines, and a blur of lithe young grasses, 91

Rain, rain,--fall, fall, 33

So beautiful you are, indeed, 20

Somewhere or other there must surely be, 1

Step lightly across the floor, 111

Such special sweetness was about, 52

The flame is spent, I can no more, 121

The hills far-off were blue, blue, 15

The love of my life came not, 103

There is a strong wall about me to protect me, 22

There is no one beside thee, and no one above thee, 62

There was a garden planned in Spring’s young days, 11

To-day I went among the mountain folk, 101

Under dusky laurel leaf, 122

Walk into the world, 60

What good is there, ah me, what good in Love?, 75

When I am dead, my dearest, 112

When I go away from you, 44

When on the marge of evening the last blue light is broken, 25

When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye’s come hame, 104

When we shall be dust in the churchyard, 79

Whose doorway was it, in the sordid street, 88

Why didst thou come into my life so late?, 96

Yet for one rounded moment I will be, 61

You ask me what--since we must part, 57

You need not say one word to me, as up the hill we go, 49

You say there is no love, my love, 45

INDEX OF AUTHORS

AKINS, ZOË, 33, 80, 120

ALDRICH, ANNE REEVE, 67

BARKER, ELSA, 39

BARNARD, ANNE, 104

BLAMIRE, SUSANNA, 92

BRANCH, ANNA HEMPSTEAD, 81

BROWNING, ELIZABETH BARRETT, 26, 41, 43, 62, 64

BURR, AMELIA JOSEPHINE, 51, 118

CARBERY, ETHNA, 86

CATHER, WILLA SIBERT, 34, 108

CHESSON, NORA, 10

COATES, FLORENCE EARLE, 24

COLBY, VINE, 88

CONKLING, GRACE HAZARD, 56

CORBIN, ALICE, 6

CRAIK, DINAH MULOCK, 114

CRAPSEY, ADELAIDE, 100

DARGAN, OLIVE TILFORD, 101

DAVIES, MARY CAROLYN, 22

DAVIS, FANNIE STEARNS, 49, 54

DICKINSON, EMILY, 19, 53

DORR, JULIA C. R., 96

DUDLEY, HELEN, 3

EWING, JULIANA HORATIA, 57

FRENCH, NORA MAY, 63, 68

GARRISON, THEODOSIA, 72

GUINEY, LOUISE IMOGEN, 25

HARDING, RUTH GUTHRIE, 91

HOPE, LAURENCE, 73, 119

HOYT, HELEN, 14

INGELOW, JEAN, 31

LEE, MUNA, 79

LEVY, AMY, 2, 99

LOWELL, AMY, 27, 44

MCCOURT, EDNA WAHLERT, 5

MCLEOD, IRENE RUTHERFORD, 20, 40

MEYNELL, ALICE, 65

MILLAY, EDNA ST. VINCENT, 70

MONROE, HARRIET, 59, 66

MURRAY, ADA FOSTER, 116

NAIDU, SAROJINI, 35

NORTON, GRACE FALLOW, 8, 12, 45

O’NEILL, MOIRA, 94

PALMER, ALICE FREEMAN, 83

PARRISH, WILLIAMINA, 30

PEABODY, JOSEPHINE PRESTON, 15, 18

PICKTHALL, MARJORIE L. C., 13

PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE, 47

REESE, LIZETTE WOODWORTH, 52, 90, 102

RITTENHOUSE, JESSIE B., 46

ROBINSON, A. MARY F., 7, 75, 76, 77

ROBINSON, CORINNE ROOSEVELT, 117

ROSSETTI, CHRISTINA, 1, 17, 69, 78, 112

SACKVILLE, MARGARET, 85

THOMAS, EDITH M., 11, 103, 111

TIETJENS, EUNICE, 37

TYNAN, KATHARINE, 58

UNTERMEYER, JEAN STARR, 29, 60

WATSON, ROSAMUND MARRIOTT, 107, 113

WHARTON, EDITH, 61

WHITNEY, HELEN HAY, 121

WICKHAM, ANNA, 36, 42

WIDDEMER, MARGARET, 97, 122

WILCOX, ELLA WHEELER, 84

WILKINSON, FLORENCE, 23

WILKINSON, MARGUERITE, 21

The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS
U · S · A

Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

Italics are represented thus _italic_.