#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
The four winds of earth, the Nort… Shrieked and groaned, sobbed and w… I stood in the dusk of the twiligh… And heard them go by with a terrib… ‘What is it, O winds! that is gri…
In India’s land one listens aghas… To the people who scream and bawl; For each caste yells at a lower ca… And the Britisher yells at them a…
Let me to-day do something that sh… A little sadness from the world’s… And may I be so favoured as to ma… Of joy’s too scanty sum a little m… Let me not hurt, by any selfish de…
Some day, when the golden glory Of June is over the earth, And the birds are singing together In a wild, mad strain of mirth; When the skies are as clear and cl…
How can I wait until you come to… The once fleet mornings linger by… Their sunny smiles touched with ma… At my unrest, they seem to pause,… Like truant children, while I sig…
Oh, I know a certain lady who is… Yet she fills me with more terror… The little chills run up and down… Though she seems a gentle creature… And she has a thousand virtues and…
If Christ came questioning His wo… (If Christ came questioning,) ‘What hast thou done to glorify th… Since last My feet this lower ear… How could I answer Him; and in wh…
Under the light of the silver moon We two sat, when our hearts were y… The night was warm with the breath… And loud from the meadow the crick… And darker and deeper, oh, love, t…
A Tribute To The Policemen Of E… Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I’m thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog;
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…
Alone I climb the steep ascending… Which leads to knowledge. In the… That hurry after, shouting to the… Small fragments of large truths, t… Who comprehends my purpose, or who…
That which we had we still possess… Though leaves may drop and stars m… No circumstance can make it less Or take it from us, all in all. That which is lost we did not own;
A vision beauteous as the morn, With heavenly eyes and tresses str… Slow glided o’er a field late shor… Where walked a poet idly dreaming. He saw her, and joy lit his face.
Woman, sitting at your ease, In the midst of luxuries, Bound by chains of selfishness, With no aim but ‘how to dress,’ Does the thought ne’er come to you
So vast the tide of Love within m… It overflows like some stupendous… The confines of the Present and T… And 'gainst the Past’s high wall… As it would cry “Thou too shalt y…