Constance Fenimore Woolson I met a traveler on the road; His face was wan, his…

BY CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON “YES, we came over again in February, and have been here…

Constance Fenimore Woolson The loveliest land that smiles beneath the sky, The coast-land of our…

Constance Fenimore Woolson Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven With intricate shades of the…

CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON I AS it was Saturday, many visitors came to the villa, Giuseppe…

Constance Fenimore Woolson To him that hath, we are told, Shall be given. Yes, by…

CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON AS the evening was delightful, their coffee was served in the garden.…

BY CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON I LORENZO came into the hall, bell in hand. Putting down…

BY CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON I “YES, of the three, I liked Pierre best,” said Mrs.…

CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON ONE afternoon, three years ago, two ladies were talking together on the…