Alice Duer Miller
Alice Duer Miller was an American writer and poet.
Alice Duer was born in New York City on July 28, 1874 into a wealthy family. She is the daughter of James Gore King Duer and Elizabeth Wilson Meads, daughter of Orlando Meads of Albany, New York. Her paternal great grandfather, was William Duer, an American lawyer, developer, and speculator from New York City. He had served in the Continental Congress and the convention that framed the New York Constitution. In 1778, he signed the United States Articles of Confederation and was the president of Columbia College, 1829-1842; and her great great grandfather was William Alexander, who claimed the disputed title of Earl of Stirling, ... more »
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Alice Duer Miller Poems
The White Cliffs
I I have loved England, dearly and deeply, Since that first morning, shining and pure, The white cliffs of Dover I saw rising steeply
How Like a Woman
I WANTED you to come to-day Or so I told you in my letter And yet, if you had stayed away, I should have liked you so much better.
The Woman at the Cross-roads
AN equal love between a man and woman, This is the only charm to set us free, And this the only omen Of immortality.
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
An Exhortation to Gentleness
You who are strong, and do not know the need That weaker spirits feel, but do not plead - The need to lean on someone who is strong - Oh! see you give their silent want good heed.
A Bread and Butter Letter
THERE is a willow grows beside a pool; Its long gray branches sweep the marble rim; And from those waters shadowy and cool, The stars shine, large and dim.
Won't it be Curious
WON'T it be curious when I am dead; Some one, unknown to me, here in my stead? Curious surely for others to see Trifles I made or marred outlasting me;
COURAGE to ask of love neither sign nor token, Wisdom to wait, silence and faith are better; Fear, not alone lest the bond be some day broken, But, that love, too desperately dear, become a fetter.
The History of a Minute
I saw a lady on the stair, And she was, oh, so strangely fair, With a knot of butter-colored hair, And a waiting, listening, wondering air.
After a Year
YES, you have guessed it. Do not blame me, dear. Indeed, I did not dream, 0 tender eyes, When first we met, that in a little year My words would dim you with pain's dumb surprise.
The Snare of the Fowler
' Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.' I WRITE for those, of whom I know a few, Young, pretty, and a little bit flirtatious,
HE: I am in trouble, give me your advice. SHE: No, for I'm sure 'twould not be carried out. HE: It shall, I swear it shall, at any price. SHE:If that's agreed, what is this all about?
To the Night Breeze
BREEZE of the night, across my pillow straying Breeze of the night, of summer dews begot, Salt from the sea-shore, where the waves are playing, Slow, to and fro, my window curtains swaying Cool my flushed cheeks, by recent sleep left hot.
From the German
ONCE for thy brow a wreath I wished to wind, And, seeking long, I could no flowers find. Now golden flowers are blooming far and near, But, ah! dear love, thou art no longer here.
Comments about Alice Duer Miller
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The White Cliffs
I have loved England, dearly and deeply,
Since that first morning, shining and pure,
The white cliffs of Dover I saw rising steeply
Out of the sea that once made her secure.
I had no thought then of husband or lover,
I was a traveller, the guest of a week;
Yet when they pointed 'the white cliffs of Dover',
Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.
I have loved England, and still as a stranger,
Here is my home and I still am alone.
Now in her hour of trial and danger,
Only the English are really her own.
It happened the first...