#Americans #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury #PoemsOfPower
Under the snow, in the dark and th… A pale little sprout was humming; Sweetly it sang, ’neath the frozen… Of the beautiful days that were co… “How foolish your songs!” said a l…
Across the miles that stretch betw… Through days of gloom or glad sunl… There shines a face I have not se… Which yet doth make my world more… He may be near, he may be far,
Along a narrow Moorish street A blue-eyed soldier strode. (Ah, well-a-day.) Veiled from her lashes to her feet She stepped from her abode,
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…
This little toe is tired, This little toe needs rocking, This little toe is sleepy you know… But this little toe keeps talking, This toe big and tall is the misch…
You do but jest, sir, and you jest… How could the hand be enemy of the… Or seed and sod be rivals! How c… Feel jealousy of heat, plant of th… Or competition dwell ’twixt lip an…
Good-bye – Yes, I am going, Sudden? Well, you are right. But a startling truth came home to… With sudden force last night. What is it? shall I tell you?—
Time’s finger on the dial of my li… Points to high noon! and yet the h… Leaves less than half remaining, f… Bleak shadows of the grave engulf… To those who burn the candle to th…
Why should the poet of these pregn… Be asked to sing of war’s unholy c… To laud and eulogize the trade whi… On horrid holocausts of human live… Man was a fighting beast when eart…
To each progressive soul there com… When all things that have pleased… Grow flavourless, the springs of j… No more the waters of youth’s foun… Yet out of reach, tiptoeing as the…
I am all tired out, said the mouth… I am all tired out with talk. Just wait, said the knee, till you… And then have to walk-walk-walk. My work, said the hand, is the har…
Oh! I hear the people calling thr… They are calling, they are crying… It behooves you, men and women, it… For there lurks a note of menace u… Let the land usurpers listen, let…
Do you know where the summer bloom… Where there never is rain on a pic… Where the thornless rose in its be… And little boys never are called f… Then, oh! hey! it is far away–
Dost thou not tire, Isaura, of th… ‘What play?’ Why, this old play o… Nay, now, lift not thine eyes in t… ’Tis all in vain—I know thee and… Let us be frank, Isaura. I have m…
The world has crowned a thousand k… But destiny has kept Her weightiest hour of kingly powe… To offer England’s son. The rising bell of Progress rings…
