Poems by Susan Coolidge

also known as: Sarah Chauncey Woolsey

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

In covert of a leafy porch,
Go, sun, since go you must,
What is a home? A guarded space,
I sit alone in the gray,
All sweet and various things do lend themselves
The day was hot and the day was dumb,
She has been just a year in Heaven.
My morn was all dewy rose and pearl,
She stood among the lilies
Softly drops the crimson sun:
Hark! upon the east-wind, piping, creeping,
"For behold, the kingdom of God is within you."
Thank God for life: life is not sweet always.
In the deep shadow of the porch
The baby Summer lies asleep and dreaming--
How did they keep his birthday then,
"Do their errands; enter into the sacrifice with them; be a link yourself in the divine chain, and feel the joy and life of it."
What is it to commune?
Darlings of June and brides of summer sun,
When dawns on earth the Easter sun
How easily He turns the tides!
Long reaches of wet grasses sway
Ah! grown a dim and fairy shade,
This is the street and the dwelling,
All night the thirsty beach has listening lain,
The boat cast loose her moorings;
So it is come! The doctor's glossy smile
Lonely and cold and fierce I keep my way,
The aloes grow upon the sand,
She stood in the open door,
Hope stood one morning by the way,
I'll tell you how the leaves came down.
Sitting all day in a silver mist,
"Although St. Franceses was unwearied in her devotions, yet if, during her prayers, she was called away by her husband or any domestic duty, she would close the book cheerfully, saying that a wife and a mother, when called upon, must quit her God at
We started in the morning, a morning full of glee,
The drowsy summer in the flowering limes
New flowery scents strewed everywhere,
All green and fair the Summer lies,
O word and thing most beautiful!
Who is this who gently slips
I know where it lurks and hides,
Yes, God has made me a woman,
As purely white as is the drifted snow,
Dry leaves upon the wall,
Love me for what I am, Love. Not for sake
The punctual tide draws up the bay,
A grievous day of wrathful winds,
"Insomuch that they brought forth the sick into the streets, and laid them on beds and couches, that at the least the shadow of Peter, passing by, might overshadow some of them."
Poems are heavenly things,
After the earthquake shock or lightning dart
Myriad rivers seek the sea,
In the long, bright summer, dear to bird and bee,
A little, rudely sculptured bed,
When earth was young and men were few,
Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose
The angel opened the door
Why should I weary you, dear heart, with words,
They know the time to go!
Six of us once, my darlings, played together
Nourished by peaceful suns and gracious dew,
When youth was high, and life was new
Each day upon the yellow Nile, 'tis said.
"Entre deux amants il y a toujours l'an qui baise et l'autre qui tend la joue."
My darling once lived by my side,
What whispered Love the day he fled?
If I were told that I must die to-morrow,
Could my heart hold another one?