#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
The passion you forbade my lips to… Will not be silenced. You must he… The sullen thunders when they roll… And when the tempest nears, with w… I know your calm forgetfulness is…
When my blood flows calm as a purl… When my heart is asleep and my bra… It is then that I vow we must par… That I will forget you, and put y… Out of my life, as a dream is bani…
Whatever the task that comes your… Just take it as part of your luck. Look it right square in the eyes,… ‘This is my
“He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, And should be in chains,” you say. I haven’t a doubt of your statemen… But who isn’t mad, I pray? Why, the world is a great asylum,
I dwell in the western inland, Afar from the sounding sea, But I seem to hear it sobbing And calling aloud to me, And my heart cries out for the oce…
Changed? Yes, I will confess it—… I do not love in the old fond way. I am your friend still– time has n… One kindly feeling of that vanishe… But the bright glamour which made…
By the castle-gate my lady stands, Viewing broad acres and spreading… Hill and valley and mead and plain Are all her own, with their wealth… In the richest of rich robes she i…
I think I never passed so sad an… Dear friend, as that one at the ch… The edifice from basement to the t… Was one resplendent blaze of colou… Up through broad aisles the stylis…
Last summer, lazing by the sea, I met a most entrancing creature, Her black eyes quite bewildered me… She had a Spanish cast of feature… She often smoked a cigarette,
Never since the race was started, Had a boy in any clime, Cause to be so thankful-hearted, As the boys of present time. Not a girl in old times living–
The year outgrows the spring it th… And clasps the summer with a new d… Yet wearied, leaves her languors a… When cool-browed autumn dawns upon… The tree outgrows the bud’s sugges…
We met at night in the season’s hight… Mid revel and mirth and song. I looked in your eye with a mute,… As you elbowed your way through th…
The Wife The house is like a garden, The children are the flowers, The gardener should come methinks And walk among his bowers,
So much one thought about the life… He did not drain the waters of his… And when death laid his children ’… He called it—‘the mysterious will… He would not strive for worldly ga…
When your love begins to wane, Spare me from the cruel pain Of all speech that tells me so - Spare me words, for I shall know, By the half-averted eyes,