#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
There was a fair green garden slop… From the south-east side of the mo… And the earliest tint of the dawn… Down through its paths, from the d… The bluest skies and the reddest r…
God, what a joy it is to plant a t… And from the sallow earth to watch… Lifting its emerald branches to th… In silent adoration; and to see Its strength and glory waxing with…
A trusting little leaf of green, A bold audacious frost; A rendezvous, a kiss or two, And youth for ever lost. Ah, me!
I’m pardoned out. Again the st… Shine on me with their myriad eyes… So long I’ve peered 'twixt ir… I’m awed by this expanse of skie… The world is wider than I thought…
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…
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.
I think I hear the sound of horse… Beating upon the graveled avenue. Go to the window that looks on the… He would not let me die alone, I… Back to the couch the patient watc…
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,
Veils, everywhere float veils; vei… Framing white faces, oft-times you… But, like a rose touched by untime… Showing the blighting marks of sor… Veils, veils, veils everywhere. T…
Batter in the home place, That was nobly done; Try and get the first base– Run! Run! RUN!
My love is young, so young; Young is her cheek, and her throat… And life is a song to be sung With love the word for each note. Young is her cheek and her throat;
Begin each morning with a talk to… And ask for your divine inheritanc… Of usefulness, contentment, and su… Resign all fear, all doubt, and al… The stars doubt not, and they are…
Heigh ho! well, the season’s over! Once again we’ve come to Lent! Programme’s changed from balls and… Now we’re ordered to repent. Forty days of self-denial!
The sun may be clouded, yet ever t… Will sweep on its course till the… And when onto chaos the systems ar… Again shall the Builder reshape a… Your path may be clouded, uncertai…
And now, when poets are singing Their songs of olden days, And now, when the land is ringing With sweet Centennial lays, My muse goes wandering backward,