#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
Oh, not for the great departed, Who formed our country’s laws, And not for the bravest-hearted Who died in freedom’s cause, And not for some living hero
Somebody’s baby was buried to-day… The empty white hearse from the gr… And the morning somehow seemed les… As I paused on the sidewalk while… And a shadow seemed drawn o’er the…
Sometimes I wish the railroads al… The ships all sunk among the coral… I am so very weary, yea, so worn o… With tales of those who visit fore… When asked to dine, to meet these…
Talk happiness. The world is sad… Without your woe. No path is whol… Look for the places that are smoot… And speak of them to rest the wear… Of earth; so hurt by one continuou…
Now is the time when India is gay With wedding parties; and the radi… Seem like a scattered rainbow taki… In human pleasures. Dressed in br… They fling upon the bride their wr…
I care not who were vicious back o… No shadow of their sins on me is s… My will is greater than heredity. I am no worm to feed upon the dead… My face, my form, my gestures and…
I loved a maiden, long ago, She held within her hand my fate; And in the ruddy sunset glow We lingered at the garden gate. The splendor of the western skies
My soul is like a poor caged bird… Beating its wings against the pris… Longing to reach the outer world o… And, all untrammelled, soar among… Wild, mighty thoughts struggle wit…
These quiet Autumn days, My soul, like Noah’s dove, on air… Goes out and searches for the hidd… Beyond the hills of haze. With mournful, pleading cries,
The Needle and Thread one day wer… The Thimble acted as priest, A paper of Pins, and the Scissors… Were among the guests at the feast… That dandy trim the Bodkin slim
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:
One night Nurse Sleep held out he… To tired little May. ‘Come, go with me to Wonderland,’ She said, ‘I know the way. Just rock-a-by-hum-m-m,
There are curious isles in the Ri… Curious isles without number. We’ll visit them all as we leisure… Down the winding stream whose curr… In our beautiful barge of Slumber…
I think that the bitterest sorrow… Of love unrequited, or cold death’… Is sweet compared to that hour whe… That some grand passion is on the… When we see that the glory and glo…
The father sits in his lonely room… Outside sings a little bird. But the shadows are laden with dea… And the song is all unheard. The father’s heart is the home of…