#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
Oh life is wonderful,' she said, ‘And all my world is bright; Can Paradise show fairer skies, Or more effulgent light?’ (Speak lower, lower, mortal heart,
I must do as you do? Your way I o… Is a very good way, and still, There are sometimes two straight r… One over, one under the hill. You are treading the safe and the…
I saw a maid with her chivalrous l… He was both tender and true; He kissed her lips, vowing over an… ‘Darling, I worship you.’ Sing, sing, bird of the spring,
Quite carelessly I turned the new… A song I sang, full many a year a… Smiled up at me, as in a busy stre… One meets an old-time friend he us… So full it was, that simple little…
Do you want to peep into Bedlam T… Then come with me, when the day sw… Into the cradle, whose rockers rim… Some people call the horizon dim. All the mischief of all the fates
Oh! it is not just the men who fac… Not the fighters at the Front alo… Who will bring the longed-for clos… Could not carry on that fray witho… Who are working at war’s problems…
Beside a crib that holds a baby’s… A tattered picture book, a broken… A sleeping mother dreams that she… Her fair-haired cherub boy. Upon the cradle’s side her light t…
Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; the… Why dost thou sigh, and wear that… The sunshine is to-day’s, although… On yesterday, and may shine on to-… I love but thee, my Guilo! be con…
The devil in hell gave a festival, And he called his imps from their… Called them up from the ruddy cup, And marshalled them into line. And each to his place sprang the i…
Dying? I am not dying. Are you ma… You think I need to ask for heave… I think you are a fiend, who would… To see me struggle in death’s cold… ‘But, man you lie! for I am stron…
MORTAL: “The night is cold, the hour is la… Who is it knocking at my door?” THE NEW YEAR: “I am Good Cheer.”
The first flower of the spring is… Or bright, as one the ripe midsumm… The first faint note the forest wa… Is not as rich with feeling, or so… As when, full master of his art, t…
The day will dawn when one of us s… In vain to hear a voice that has g… And morns will fade, noons pale,… While sad eyes watch for feet that… One of us two must sometime face e…
Where are the temperance people? Well, scattered here and there: Some gathering in their produce To show at the autumn fair; Some threshing wheat for market,
Our lives are songs. God writes t… And we set them to music at pleasu… And the song grows glad, or sweet,… As we choose to fashion the measur… We must write the music, whatever…