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Quotes by Susan Coolidge
Bluebird. "So the Bluebirds have contracted, have they, for a house? And a nest 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."— filed under Birds-Blackbird
Other Poems. P. 118. 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.— filed under Christmas
Thank God for death: bright thing with dreary name, We wrong with mournful flowers her pure, still brow.— filed under Death
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 hastes to bed.— filed under Flirting
Darlings of June, and brides of summer sun, Chill pipes the stormy wind, the skies are drear; Dull and despoiled the gardens every one: What do you here?— filed under Flowers-Lily
Poems. The Last of April. Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, Apple-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content.— filed under Months-April
Nightingale. 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."— filed under Months-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.— filed under Months-October
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.— filed under Morning
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.— filed under Sows
Every Fern is tucked and set, 'Neath coverlet, Downy and soft and warm.— filed under Sows
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.— filed under Sorrow
All night the thirsty beach has listening lain With patience dumb, Counting the slow, sad moments of her pain; Now morn has come, And with the morn the punctual tide again.— filed under Tides
The punctual tide draws up the bay, With ripple of wave and hiss of spray.— filed under Tides
Now the last red ray is gone; Now the twilight shadows hie.— filed under Twilight
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.— filed under Weeds