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About this poet

Elizabeth Drew Stoddard was born in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, in 1823. She published both prose and poetry during her lifetime, including Poems (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895). She died in 1902.

A Summer Night

I feel the breath of the summer night,
            Aromatic fire:
The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir
            With tender desire.

The white moths flutter about the lamp,
            Enamoured with light;
And a thousand creates softly sing
            A song to the night!

But I am alone, and how can I sing
            Praises to thee?
Come, Night! unveil the beautiful soul
            That waiteth for me.

This poem appeared in Poems (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895). It is in the public domain.

This poem appeared in Poems (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895). It is in the public domain.

Elizabeth Drew Stoddard

Elizabeth Drew Stoddard

Elizabeth Drew Stoddard was born in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, in 1823. She published both prose and poetry during her lifetime, including Poems (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895). She died in 1902.

by this poet

poem
Much have I spoken of the faded leaf;	
    Long have I listened to the wailing wind,	
And watched it ploughing through the heavy clouds,	
    For autumn charms my melancholy mind.	
 
When autumn comes, the poets sing a dirge:
    The year must perish; all the flowers are dead;	
The sheaves are gathered; and the
poem

The crimson dawn breaks through the clouded east,
And waking breezes round the casement pipe;
They blow the globes of dew from opening buds,
And steal the odors of the sleeping flowers.
The swallow calls its young ones from the eaves,
To dart above their shadows on the lake,
Till its

poem

No melancholy days are these!
     Not where the maple changing stands,
Not in the shade of fluttering oaks,
            Nor in the bands

Of twisting vines and sturdy shrubs,
     Scarlet and yellow, green and brown,
Falling, or swinging on their stalks,
            Is