#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
Though you see no banded army, Though you hear no cannons rattle, We are in a mighty contest, We are fighting a great battle. We are few, but we are right:
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the tenor McKe… Were singing together a blithe due… And days it were better I should… Came suddenly back to me,
‘The maiden free, the maiden wed. Can never, never be the same, A new life springs from out the de… And with the speaking of a name– A breath upon the marriage bed,
‘Tis time to dress. Dost hear the… Like sobbing waves that roll up fr… Yes, yes, I hear – I yield – no n… I know your wishes,– send Lisette… I hate the ballroom; hate its gild…
In golden youth when seems the ear… A Summer-land of singing mirth, When souls are glad and hearts are… And not a shadow lurks in sight, We do not know it, but there lieu
They met each other in the glade— She lifted up her eyes; Alack the day! Alack the maid! She blushed in swift surprise. Alas! alas! the woe that comes fro…
To Miss Eva Russell. The spring time is deaf to our ple… The meadows are brown as can be. The hilltops are bleak and unlovel… No thrush sits and sings on the tr…
Though critics may bow to art, and… It is not art, but heart, which wi… Though smooth be the heartless pra… And the finest phrase falls dead i… Though perfect the player’s touch,…
All in the dark we grope along, And if we go amiss We learn at least which path is wr… And there is gain in this. We do not always win the race
I have been down in the darkest wa… Deep, deep down where no light cou… Alone with the things that are ben… The mindless things that are cruel… I have fought with fear in my wave…
The Wife The house is like a garden, The children are the flowers, The gardener should come methinks And walk among his bowers,
Said the manicure scissors one day… ‘The shears always have their own… And I think it absurd That I am deterred From entering into life’s fray.
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,
O mother who sips sweetened liquor… Look down at the child on your bre… Think, think of the rough path bef… And ask yourself then, ‘Is it bes… Shall I foster a love for this po…
God measures souls by their capaci… For entertaining his best Angel,… Who loveth most is nearest kin to… Who is all Love, or Nothing. He who sits