#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
In the journey of life, as we trav… To the mystical goal that is hidde… You may stumble at times into Roa… Not seeing the sign-board that poi… Through caverns of sorrow your fee…
How does Love speak? In the faint flush upon the tell-t… And in the pallor that succeeds it… The quivering lid of an averted ey… The smile that proves the parent t…
I into life so full of love was se… That all the shadows which fall on… Of every human being could not sta… But fled before the light my spiri… I saw the world through gold and c…
Back of each soldier who fights fo… Aye, back of each woman and man Who toils and prays through these… Is the spirit of Great Joan. For the love she gave, and the lif…
Once over the ocean in distant lan… In an age long past, were two host… Two armies of men, both brave, bot… And their hearts beat high as they… To fight the battle of right and w…
When Tom and I were married, we t… I had a taste for singing and play… And Tom, who loved to hear me, sa… I would not stop All practice, like so many wives w…
Let no man pray that he know not s… Let no soul ask to be free from pa… For the gall of to-day is the swee… And the moment’s loss is the lifet… Through want of a thing does its w…
There is a courage, a majestic thi… That springs forth from the brow o… Minerva-like, and dares all danger… And all the threatening future yet… Crowned with the helmet of great s…
DEDICATED TO THE MEN… Our Motherland, dear Motherland, The source of beauty and of Art, Who but thy children understand The love which permeates each hear…
That which we had we still possess… Though leaves may drop and stars m… No circumstance can make it less Or take it from us, all in all. That which is lost we did not own;
Here in my office I sit and write Hour on hour, and day on day, With no one to speak to from morn… Though I have a neighbour just ov… Across the alley that yawns betwee…
I step across the mystic border-la… And look upon the wonder-world of… How beautiful, how beautiful its h… And all its valleys, how surpassin… The winding paths that lead up to…
In Memory’s Mansion are wonderful… And I wander about them at will; And I pause at the casements, whe… Are sending sweet scents o’er the… I lean from a window that looks on…
Uncle Rob says: Once the daisies all were white, Till a baby fellow Ate his supper down one night, And stained his face all yellow.
Why are thou sad, my Beppo? But… Here at my feet, thy dear head on… I heard thee say thy heart would n… Or feel the olden ennui and unrest… What troubles thee? Am I not all…