#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
Wise men tell me thou, O Fate, Art invincible and great. Well, I own thy prowess; still Dare I flount thee, with my will. Thou canst shatter in a span
Who knows the way to wonderland? Oh, I know, Oh, I know! Trotty-te-trot on mama’s knee, Then over the billows of sleepy se… Down through the straits of by-lo,
Oh! the earth is full of sinning And of trouble and of woe, But the devil makes an inning Every time we say it’s so. And the way to set him scowling,
Back of each soldier who fights fo… Aye, back of each woman and man Who toils and prays through these… Is the spirit of Great Joan. For the love she gave, and the lif…
Sir Knight of the world’s oldest… Sir Knight of the Army of God, You have crossed the strange mysti… The ground floor of truth you have… You have entered the sanctum sanct…
The Day has never understood the… Though sired by one Creative Powe… The White Man ever fails to read… Though from the self-same Source… So deep and wide, the Great Divid…
‘Black sheep, black sheep, have yo… ‘Yes, sir-yes, sir: three bags ful… ‘I don’t want any New Thought,' s… ‘Or any Theosophy, for, you see, The faith I learned at my mother’…
As we journey along, with a laugh… We see, on youth’s flower-decked s… Like a beacon of light, shining fa… The beautiful Station of Hope. But the wheels of old Time roll a…
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…
The flowers have tender little sou… That love, rejoice, aspire. Each star that on its orbit rolls Feels infinite desire. The diamond longs to scintillate
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–
Once in the world’s first prime, When nothing lived or stirred, Nothing but new-born Time, Nor was there even a bird— The Silence spoke to a Star,
Have you heard of the king of Can… Well, listen while I sing, He has pages on every hand, For he is a mighty king, And thousands of children bend the…
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;
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…