#AmericanWriters #PoemsOfPower
I gave a beggar from my little sto… Of well-earned gold. He spent th… And came again, and yet again, sti… And hungry, as before. I gave a thought, and through that…
Walking to-day on the Common, I heard a stranger say To a friend who was standing near… ‘Do you know I am going away? ’ I had never seen their faces,
Beside an incubator stood The would-be mother of a brood. With drooping wings and nodding he… These are the clucked-out words sh… ‘O, vile invention of the age,
I saw the day lean o’er the world’… And peer into night’s chasm, dark… High in his hand he held a blazing… Then dropped it and plunged headlo… With lurid splendor that swift pal…
We must not force events, but rath… The heart soil ready for their com… The earth spreads carpets for the… Or, with the strengthening tonic o… Prepares for Winter. Should a Ju…
Should some great angel say to me… “Thou must re-tread thy pathway fr… But God will grant, in pity, for… Some one dear wish, the nearest to… This were my wish! from my life’s…
Our lives are songs. God writes t… And we set them to music at pleasu… And the song grows glad, or sweet,… As we choose to fashion the measur… We must write the music, whatever…
I called to the wind of the Winte… As he sped like a steed on his way… ‘Oh! rest for awhile on thy journe… And answer these questions, I pra… ’Who is the foe to all virtue,
O Science, reaching backward thro… Most earnest child of God, Exposing all the secrets of existe… With thy divining rod, I bid thee speed up to the heights…
Don’t look for the flaws as you go… And even when you find them, It is wise and kind to be somewhat… And look for the virtue behind the… For the cloudiest night has a hint…
Only a blunder-a sad mistake; All my own fault and mine alone. The saddest error a heart can make… I was so young, or I would have k… Only his rare, sweet, tender smile…
Are you loving enough? There is s… Some one you hold as the dearest o… In the holiest shrine of your hear… Are you making it known? Is the t… To the one you love? If death’s q…
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…
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…
The mighty conflict, which we call… Doth wear upon the body and the so… Our vital forces wasted in resista… So much there is to conquer and co… The rock which meets the billows w…