#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
I know not whence I came, I know not whither I go; But the fact stands clear that I… In this world of pleasure and woe. And out of the mist and murk
O man, with your wonderful dower, O woman, with genius and grace, You can teach the whole world with… If you are but worthy the place. The stage is a force and a factor
Oh many a duel the world has seen That was bitter with hate, that wa… But I sing of a duel by far more… Than ever a poet was sung before. It was waged by night, yea by day…
Who travels alone with his eyes on… Though he laughs in the day time o… For courage goes down at the set o… When the toil of the journey is al… He speeds but to grief though full…
The earth is yours and mine, Our God’s bequest. That testament divine Who dare contest? Usurpers of the earth,
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…
We women teach our little sons how… And how ignoble blows are; school… Support our precepts and inoculate The growing minds with thoughts of… ‘Let dogs delight to bark and bite…
Out from my window westward I turn full oft my face; But the mountains rebuke the visio… That would encompass space; They lift their lofty foreheads
As we hurry away to the end, my fr… Of this sad little farce called ex… We are sure that the future will b… And that is the grave in the dista… And so when our lives run along al…
Then, kiss me, sweet, just as you… I will not point, nor scold, nor t… Kiss me, dear love, in thy sweet w… But kiss me oft, sweetheart, I pr… Oh, sweet, I would be understood,
One ship drives east and another d… With the selfsame winds that blow. Tis the set of the sails And not the gales Which tells us the way to go.
But to every mind there openeth, A way, and way, and away, A high soul climbs the highway, And the low soul gropes the low, And in between on the misty flats,
Sometimes when I have dropped asl… Draped in soft luxurious gloom, Across my drowsy mind will creep The memory of another room, Where resinous knots in roofboards…
This is the baby who doesn’t do a… This is the lady who loves to wear… This is their big sister, this is… And this stout thumb is their grea…
The Poker proposed to the shovel That they should be man and wife, ‘I think,’ said he, ‘that we could… As we journey along through life.’ The Shovel blushed as she answere…