#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #PoemsOfPower
If I should die, how kind you all… In that strange hour I would not… There are no words too beautiful t… Of one who goes forevermore away Across that ebbing tide which has…
I have not the gift of vision, I have not the psychic ear, And the realms that are called El… I neither see nor hear; Yet oft when the shadows darken
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 Christmas bells are swinging… We hear sweet voices ringing from… And etched on vacant places, Are half forgotten faces Of friends we used to cherish, and…
Where are the temperance people? Well, scattered here and there: Some gathering in their produce To show at the autumn fair; Some threshing wheat for market,
‘He that hath an ear, let him hear… St. John the Divine. The Spirit says unto the churches… ‘Ere ever the churches began I lived in the centre of Being–
Ho! for the day in the whole year… Long may it live in the heart of t… Long may it be ere the names are f… That boldly were signed to the gra… Shout, sons of liberty! shout for…
Here is a lock of his soft, dark h… And here are the letters he wrote… And the ring of gold that I used… Is here in the casket-see! I put them away ten years ago.
The beautiful and slender young N… In trailing robes of pink and pale… Swept close to Venus, and breathe… A precious boon, I ask, dear frie… ‘O queen of light and beauty, you…
We love but once. The great gold… From dawn to eventide doth cast hi… But the full splendour of his perf… Is reached but once throughout the… We love but once. The waves, wit…
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…
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,
Sometimes, when I am toil-worn an… And tired out with working long an… And earth is dark, and skies above… And heart and soul are all too sic… These words have come to me like a…
GOOD-BYE to the cradle, the dea… The rude hand of Progress has thr… No more to its motion o’er sleep’s… Our play-weary wayfarers peacefull… No more by the rhythm of slow-movi…
The band was playing a waltz-quadr… I felt as light as a wind-blown fe… As we floated away, at the caller’… Through the intricate, mazy dance… Like mimic armies our lines were m…