Poems by Edith Wharton
The Sonnet
... The wine of Petrarch, Shakspere, Shelley -- then ...
The Last Giustianini
... And straightway, when you leave this cloistered place, ...
Aeropagus
... " The voice still saith, "While atoms weave ...
Belgium
... There shall she keep her fearless state, ...
A Hunting Song
... Then, with your child in her breast, ...
'On Active Service'; American Expeditionary Force (R. S., August 12, 1918)
... But in our saddest selves a sweet voice sing, ...
The Tomb of Ilaria Giunigi
... And lips that at love's call should answer, "Here!" ...
A Torchbearer
... oftener they That in the still fulfilment of each days ...
All Saints
... Down the silver current of the light-years brought you ...
Uses
... Drift of the dead year's harvesting, ...
Euryalus
... By orchards, where the wind-flowers' drifted snow ...
Summer Afternoon (Bodiam Castle, Sussex)
... I from afar Beheld thee fashioned for one hour's high use, ...
A Meeting
... Then down where the same old works to do ...
Vesalius In Zante
... O, for that Best gift of all, Fallopius, take my thanks ...
The Eumenides
... Nay, drawn into ourselves, in that deep place ...
