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Best Famous Louisa May Alcott Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Louisa May Alcott poems. This is a select list of the best famous Louisa May Alcott poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Louisa May Alcott poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of louisa may alcott poems.

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Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem


 Mysterious death! who in a single hour 
Life's gold can so refine 
And by thy art divine 
Change mortal weakness to immortal power! 

Bending beneath the weight of eighty years 
Spent with the noble strife 
of a victorious life 
We watched her fading heavenward, through our tears.
But ere the sense of loss our hearts had wrung A miracle was wrought; And swift as happy thought She lived again -- brave, beautiful, and young.
Age, pain, and sorrow dropped the veils they wore And showed the tender eyes Of angels in disguise, Whose discipline so patiently she bore.
The past years brought their harvest rich and fair; While memory and love, Together, fondly wove A golden garland for the silver hair.
How could we mourn like those who are bereft, When every pang of grief found balm for its relief In counting up the treasures she had left?-- Faith that withstood the shocks of toil and time; Hope that defied despair; Patience that conquered care; And loyalty, whose courage was sublime; The great deep heart that was a home for all-- Just, eloquent, and strong In protest against wrong; Wide charity, that knew no sin, no fall; The spartan spirit that made life so grand, Mating poor daily needs With high, heroic deeds, That wrested happiness from Fate's hard hand.
We thought to weep, but sing for joy instead, Full of the grateful peace That follows her release; For nothing but the weary dust lies dead.
Oh, noble woman! never more a queen Than in the laying down Of sceptre and of crown To win a greater kingdom, yet unseen; Teaching us how to seek the highest goal, To earn the true success -- To live, to love, to bless -- And make death proud to take a royal soul.

Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

Fairy Song

 The moonlight fades from flower and rose 
And the stars dim one by one; 
The tale is told, the song is sung, 
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers, And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake: 'T is time for the Elves to go.
O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass, Unseen by mortal eye, And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float Through the quiet moonlit sky;-- For the stars' soft eyes alone may see, And the flowers alone may know, The feasts we hold, the tales we tell; So't is time for the Elves to go.
From bird, and blossom, and bee, We learn the lessons they teach; And seek, by kindly deeds, to win A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell, Sweet voices whisper low, And gentle hearts most joyously greet The Elves where'er they go.
When next we meet in the Fairy dell, May the silver moon's soft light Shine then on faces gay as now, And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home: Farewell! for the Elves must go.
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

The Lay of a Golden Goose

 Long ago in a poultry yard 
One dull November morn, 
Beneath a motherly soft wing 
A little goose was born.
Who straightway peeped out of the shell To view the world beyond, Longing at once to sally forth And paddle in the pond.
"Oh! be not rash," her father said, A mild Socratic bird; Her mother begged her not to stray With many a warning word.
But little goosey was perverse, And eagerly did cry, "I've got a lovely pair of wings, Of course I ought to fly.
" In vain parental cacklings, In vain the cold sky's frown, Ambitious goosey tried to soar, But always tumbled down.
The farmyard jeered at her attempts, The peacocks screamed, "Oh fie! You're only a domestic goose, So don't pretend to fly.
" Great cock-a-doodle from his perch Crowed daily loud and clear, "Stay in the puddle, foolish bird, That is your proper sphere," The ducks and hens said, one and all, In gossip by the pool, "Our children never play such pranks; My dear, that fowl's a fool.
" The owls came out and flew about, Hooting above the rest, "No useful egg was ever hatched From transcendental nest.
" Good little goslings at their play And well-conducted chicks Were taught to think poor goosey's flights Were naughty, ill-bred tricks.
They were content to swim and scratch, And not at all inclined For any wild goose chase in search Of something undefined.
Hard times she had as one may guess, That young aspiring bird, Who still from every fall arose Saddened but undeterred.
She knew she was no nightingale Yet spite of much abuse, She longed to help and cheer the world, Although a plain gray goose She could not sing, she could not fly, Nor even walk, with grace, And all the farmyard had declared A puddle was her place.
But something stronger than herself Would cry, "Go on, go on! Remember, though an humble fowl, You're cousin to a swan.
" So up and down poor goosey went, A busy, hopeful bird.
Searched many wide unfruitful fields, And many waters stirred.
At length she came unto a stream Most fertile of all Niles, Where tuneful birds might soar and sing Among the leafy isles.
Here did she build a little nest Beside the waters still, Where the parental goose could rest Unvexed by any bill.
And here she paused to smooth her plumes, Ruffled by many plagues; When suddenly arose the cry, "This goose lays golden eggs.
" At once the farmyard was agog; The ducks began to quack; Prim Guinea fowls relenting called, "Come back, come back, come back.
" Great chanticleer was pleased to give A patronizing crow, And the contemptuous biddies clucked, "I wish my chicks did so.
" The peacocks spread their shining tails, And cried in accents soft, "We want to know you, gifted one, Come up and sit aloft.
" Wise owls awoke and gravely said, With proudly swelling breasts, "Rare birds have always been evoked From transcendental nests!" News-hunting turkeys from afar Now ran with all thin legs To gobble facts and fictions of The goose with golden eggs.
But best of all the little fowls Still playing on the shore, Soft downy chicks and goslings gay, Chirped out, "Dear Goose, lay more.
" But goosey all these weary years Had toiled like any ant, And wearied out she now replied "My little dears, I can't.
"When I was starving, half this corn Had been of vital use, Now I am surfeited with food Like any Strasbourg goose.
" So to escape too many friends, Without uncivil strife, She ran to the Atlantic pond And paddled for her life.
Soon up among the grand old Alps She found two blessed things, The health she had so nearly lost, And rest for weary limbs.
But still across the briny deep Couched in most friendly words, Came prayers for letters, tales, or verse From literary birds.
Whereat the renovated fowl With grateful thanks profuse, Took from her wing a quill and wrote This lay of a Golden Goose.
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

The Rock and The Bubble

 Oh! a bare, brown rock 
Stood up in the sea, 
The waves at its feet 
Dancing merrily.
A little bubble Once came sailing by, And thus to the rock Did it gayly cry,-- "Ho! clumsy brown stone, Quick, make way for me: I'm the fairest thing That floats on the sea.
"See my rainbow-robe, See my crown of light, My glittering form, So airy and bright.
"O'er the waters blue, I'm floating away, To dance by the shore With the foam and spray.
"Now, make way, make way; For the waves are strong, And their rippling feet Bear me fast along.
" But the great rock stood Straight up in the sea: It looked gravely down, And said pleasantly-- "Little friend, you must Go some other way; For I have not stirred this many a long day.
"Great billows have dashed, And angry winds blown; But my sturdy form Is not overthrown.
"Nothing can stir me In the air or sea; Then, how can I move, Little friend, for thee?" Then the waves all laughed In their voices sweet; And the sea-birds looked, From their rocky seat, At the bubble gay, Who angrily cried, While its round cheek glowed With a foolish pride,-- "You SHALL move for me; And you shall not mock At the words I say, You ugly, rough rock.
"Be silent, wild birds! While stare you so? Stop laughing, rude waves, And help me to go! "For I am the queen Of the ocean here, And this cruel stone Cannot make me fear.
" Dashing fiercely up, With a scornful word, Foolish Bubble broke; But Rock never stirred.
Then said the sea-birds, Sitting in their nests To the little ones Leaning on their breasts,-- "Be not like Bubble, Headstrong, rude, and vain, Seeking by violence Your object to gain; "But be like the rock, Steadfast, true, and strong, Yet cheerful and kind, And firm against wrong.
"Heed, little birdlings, And wiser you'll be For the lesson learned To-day by the sea.
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

From The Short Story A Christmas Dream And How It Came True

 From our happy home 
Through the world we roam 
One week in all the year, 
Making winter spring 
With the joy we bring 
For Christmas-tide is here.
Now the eastern star Shines from afar To light the poorest home; Hearts warmer grow, Gifts freely flow, For Christmas-tide has come.
Now gay trees rise Before young eyes, Abloom with tempting cheer; Blithe voices sing, And blithe bells ring, For Christmas-tide is here.
Oh, happy chime, Oh, blessed time, That draws us all so near! "Welcome, dear day," All creatures say, For Christmas-tide is here.

Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

Thoreaus Flute

 We sighing said, "Our Pan is dead; 
His pipe hangs mute beside the river 
Around it wistful sunbeams quiver, 
But Music's airy voice is fled.
Spring mourns as for untimely frost; The bluebird chants a requiem; The willow-blossom waits for him; The Genius of the wood is lost.
" Then from the flute, untouched by hands, There came a low, harmonious breath: "For such as he there is no death; His life the eternal life commands; Above man's aims his nature rose.
The wisdom of a just content Made one small spot a continent And turned to poetry life's prose.
"Haunting the hills, the stream, the wild, Swallow and aster, lake and pine, To him grew human or divine, Fit mates for this large-hearted child.
Such homage Nature ne'er forgets, And yearly on the coverlid 'Neath which her darling lieth hid Will write his name in violets.
"To him no vain regrets belong Whose soul, that finer instrument, Gave to the world no poor lament, But wood-notes ever sweet and strong.
O lonely friend! he still will be A potent presence, though unseen, Steadfast, sagacious, and serene; Seek not for him -- he is with thee.
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

The Rose Family - Song 1

 O flower at my window 
Why blossom you so fair, 
With your green and purple cup 
Upturned to sun and air? 
'I bloom, blithesome Bessie, 
To cheer your childish heart; 
The world is full of labor, 
And this shall be my part.
' Whirl, busy wheel, faster, Spin, little thread, spin; The sun shines fair without, And we are gay within.
O robin in the tree-top, With sunshine on your breast, Why brood you so patiently Above your hidden nest? 'I brood, blithesome Bessie, And sing my humble song, That the world may have more music From my little ones erelong.
' Whirl, busy wheel, faster, Spin, little thread, spin; The sun shines fair without, And we are gay within.
O balmy wind of summer, O silver-singing brook, Why rustle through the branches? Why shimmer in your nook? 'I flutter, blithesome Bessie, Like a blessing far and wide; I scatter bloom and verdue Where'er my footsteps glide.
' Whirl, busy wheel, faster, Spin, little thread, spin; The sun shines fair without, And we are gay within.
O brook and breeze and blossom, And robin on the tree, You make a joy of duty, A pride of industry; Teach me to work as blithely, With a willing hand and heart: The world is full of labor, And I must do my part.
Whirl, busy wheel, faster, Spin, little thread, spin; The sun shines fair without, And we are gay within.
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

The Frost-King - Song 1

 We are sending you, dear flowers 
Forth alone to die, 
Where your gentle sisters may not weep 
O'er the cold graves where you lie; 
But you go to bring them fadeless life 
In the bright homes where they dwell, 
And you softly smile that't is so, 
As we sadly sing farewell.
O plead with gentle words for us, And whisper tenderly Of generous love to that cold heart, And it will answer ye; And though you fade in a dreary home, Yet loving hearts will tell Of the joy and peace that you have given: Flowers, dear flowers, farewell!
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

The Rose Family - Song II

 O lesson well and wisely taught 
Stay with me to the last, 
That all my life may better be 
For the trial that is past.
O vanity, mislead no more! Sleep, like passions, long! Wake, happy heart, and dance again To the music of my song! O summer days, flit fast away, And bring the blithesome hour When we three wanderers shall meet Safe in our household flower! O dear mamma, lament no more! Smile on us as we come, Your grief has been our punishment, Your love has led us home.
Written by Louisa May Alcott | Create an image from this poem

From The Short Story What The Swallows Did

 Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow, 
Starting on your autumn flight, 
Pause a moment at my window, 
Twitter softly your good-night; 
For the summer days are over, 
All your duties are well done, 
And the happy homes you builded 
Have grown empty, one by one.
Swallow, swallow, neighbor swallow, Are you ready for your flight? Are all the feather cloaks completed? Are the little caps all right? Are the young wings strong and steady For the journey through the sky? Come again in early spring-time; And till then, good-by, good-by!