Florilegium Archive · Papercuts and Scribbles

August 2020 – Little Women

Poem inspired by Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

-- necessity being the mother of invention --
but, dear me, let us be elegant or die!
as much out of place as a colt in a flower garden
no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping

rich people have about as many worries as poor ones
love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride
there is a charm about fine clothes which attracts a certain class of people
I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, then queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace

as if the spirit of '76 inspired them
God seems so far away I can't find Him
'Prunes and prisms' are my doom

The quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family
for laughter is ready when hearts are light
money cannot be refinement of nature
when the writing fit came on, she gave herself up to it with entire abandon

the young authoress laid her firstborn on her table, and chopped it up as ruthlessly as an ogre
as if they were unfledged angels
he is a gentleman in spirt of the brown-paper parcels

the Old World, which is always new and beautiful to young eyes
talking English very loud, as if that would make people understand him
she preferred imaginary heroes to real ones
the poor man must have needed a deal of food after teaching idiots all day

being asked to cut off her baby's legs in order that it might fit into a new cradle
I almost wish I hadn't any conscience, it's so inconvenient
I should be homesick for you even in heaven

the mission of politicians seemed to be calling each other names

a paternal priest taught his flock
music too ethereal to uplift a mortal woe
for he lets me read his heart
(as I dare say my reader has during this little homily)
the first love is the best

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