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Alice Duer Miller

A Lady's Choice

Her old love in tears and silence had been building her a palace
Ringed by moats and flanked with towers, he had set it on a hill
'Here,' he said, 'will come no whisper of the world's alarms and malice,
In these granite walls imprisoned, I will keep you safe from ill'

As he spoke along the highway there came riding by a stranger,
For an instant on her features, he a fleeting glance bestowed,
Then he said: 'My heart is fickle and the world is full of danger,'
And he offered her his stirrup and he pointed down the road.

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Late Comers

Oft on my way, my daily task pursuing,
Meet I two fairy figures face to face,
Beauty and Peace, who smile on me, embuing
All else I see with something of their grace.

Not in my youth did I their shapes discover,
Not in those hours of transport and despairs,
Rather they come now that high noon is over,
And like sweet ghosts they make the twilight theirs.

Constant and shy, they seek those spirits only
Who have made silence for their soft behests;
Whose garnished thresholds, welcoming and lonely,
Faithful await the long desired guests.

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Song in Exile

THE rustling palms bend readily
Between the sun and me;
The trades blow warm and steadily
Across the turquoise sea;
But I'd rather feel the March wind bite
In the country of the free.

Hibiscus and camellias
Bloom here abundantly,
And roses and gardenias ­
The sweetest flowers there be ­
But I'd rather see through the bare north woods
One bridal dogwood tree.

The tropic light is mellow
As a lamp in a lighted room;
The sun shines high and yellow
In the quivering cloudless dome;
But, oh, for the snow and the cruel cold
And the rigors of my home!

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Final Poem

The consciousness of my mortality
Which used to blind and limit all my life
Weighs on me not since I have been your wife.
Death is the price of our felicity;
And life eternal would not leave us free
To love each other thus, setting above
The grace of God, a common human love,
Untouched, unthreatened by any heaven to be.
For who, while waiting to be crowned a king
Can relish all the humble every day?
Who but must hasten when she sets a goal?
For me, I could not make our life a thing
So wise, so real, so tender and so gay
Had I this other care - to save my soul.

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Strange Gods

THE great religions, like men great of mind,
Draw to them even those of hostile view.
Many a barbarian in Athens knew
The temple porches who was grossly blind
To any god save one long left behind -
Some hideous idol on a mountain blue,
For whom his heart ached, timorous and true,
And, lonely in the Parthenon, repined.
But home returning over difficult seas
To his own people, had he no regret?
No envy for those Greeks who bent their knees
Only where beauty and religion met?
Could he forget the temple and the trees?
Could he the grey-eyed Pallas so forget?

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The Price to Peace

LONG since I taught my spirit to obey
The Sage's great commandment - to forget ­
And so to lose life's bitterness and fret
And taste its sweetness; and I went my way
Eluding joy and sorrow, grave and gay,
And lived exempt, my being always set
Upon the striking hour, without regret,
Secure, refreshed, remote from yesterday.
But oh my friend, my love, my very dear,
My practised wisdom is a curse to me;
I do forget, and when you are not near
It is, by Heaven, as if you ceased to be;
And I would buy with agony and fear
One hour, one little hour of memory.

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Newport

ON these brown rocks the waves dissolve in spray
As when our fathers saw them first alee.
If such a one could come again and see
This ancient haven in its latter day,
These haughty palaces and gardens gay,
These dense, soft lawns, bedecked by many a tree
Borne like a gem from Ind or Araby;
If he could see the race he bred, at play -
Bright like a flock of tropic birds allured
To pause a moment on their southward wing
By these warm sands and by these summer seas -
Would he not cry, 'Alas, have I endured
Exile and famine, hate and suffering,
To win religious liberty for these?'

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Sonnet

DEAR, if you love me, hold me most your friend,
Chosen from out the many who would bear
Your gladness gladly - heavily your care;
Who best can sympathize, best comprehend,
Where others fail; who, breathless to the end,
Follows your tale of joy or of despair:
Hold me your counsellor, because I dare
To lift my hand to guide you, that I lend
My love to help you. And I would you knew
That I am fair enough to win men's hearts,
If so I willed; yet honor me above
All other women, since I am too true
To trap you with my sex's smaller arts.
Deem me all these, but love me as your love.

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Before Spring

FARE you well, who love the highways,
Love the cities, tall and bright,
For the forest ways are my ways,
And the birds' songs my delight,
And the stars in river byways
Are my only lamps by night.

I shall see the Spring awaking
While you think it winter still,
Watch the brittle ice forsaking
Edge of marsh and pool and rill,
And the little willows making
Yellow mists against the hill.

Go you to the things you care for,
Violins with trembling string,
Jewels that men do and dare for,
Every lovely, man-wrought thing;
They have caught your spirit, therefore
You have left me ere the Spring.

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Brandon

THE house is empty, and the garden alley,
A shadowed aisle of linden and of yew,
A marble vase, a glimpse of river-valley ­
Translucent white against transparent blue -
A mystery of boxwood and of byway,
Beneath barred windows and unopened door,
And far below the river like a highway
Sweeps on, but brings no travelers any more.
Beauty alone is constant; where she chooses
A dwelling-place, there would she ever stay;
Fortune and friends and fashion though it loses,
Beauty more faithful does not pass away,
But most deserted, most herself she seems
Left to her deep and solitary dreams.

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