#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
But to every mind there openeth, A way, and way, and away, A high soul climbs the highway, And the low soul gropes the low, And in between on the misty flats,
All in the time when Earth did mo… The cold, ungracious aspect of you… Sweet Summer came, and bade him s… She wove bright garlands, and in w… She bound him willing captive. D…
The Wife The house is like a garden, The children are the flowers, The gardener should come methinks And walk among his bowers,
Look in the eyes of trouble with a… Extend your hand and do not be afr… —Tis but a friend who comes to mas… And test your faith and courage fo… Fly, and he follows fast with thre…
When from dawn till noon seems one… And from noon till night another, Oh, then should a little boy come… And creep into the arms of his mot… Snugly creep and fall asleep,
Last night I knelt low at my lady… One soft, caressing hand played wi… And one I kissed and fondled. Kne… I deemed my meed of happiness comp… She was so fair, so full of witchi…
Whoever you are as you read this, Whatever your trouble or grief, I want you to know and to heed thi… The day draweth near with relief. No sorrow, no woe is unending,
England, father and mother in one, Look on your stalwart son. Sturdy and strong, with the valour… Where is another so lusty? Coated and mailed, with the armour…
I love your lips when they’re wet… And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the loveligh… Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm whi…
When the first sere leaves of the… I heard, with a heart that was str… Out of the grave of a dead Past c… A voice I fancied forever stilled… All through winter and spring and…
In Memory’s Mansion are wonderful… And I wander about them at will; And I pause at the casements, whe… Are sending sweet scents o’er the… I lean from a window that looks on…
Sometimes I wish the railroads al… The ships all sunk among the coral… I am so very weary, yea, so worn o… With tales of those who visit fore… When asked to dine, to meet these…
So many gods, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind, While just the art of being kind, Is all the sad world needs.
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;
The Truth Teller lifts the curtai… And shows us the people’s plight; And everything seems uncertain, And nothing at all looks right. Yet out of the blackness groping,
