Poems begining by M

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Mary McNeely

© Edgar Lee Masters

Passer-by,
To love is to find your own soul
Through the soul of the beloved one.
When the beloved one withdraws itself from your soul

Mrs. Williams

© Edgar Lee Masters

I was the milliner
Talked about, lied about,
Mother of Dora,
Whose strange disappearance

Mrs. Kessler

© Edgar Lee Masters

Mr Kessler, you know, was in the army,
And he drew six dollars a month as a pension,
And stood on the corner talking politics,
Or sat at home reading Grant's Memoirs;

Morning

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbars the gates of light. ~ MILTON.

Mrs. George Reece

© Edgar Lee Masters

To this generation I would say:
Memorize some bit of verse of truth or beauty.
It may serve a turn in your life.
My husband had nothing to do

Melville And Coghill - The Place Of The Little Hand

© Andrew Lang

DEAD, with their eyes to the foe,

Dead, with the foe at their feet;

Minerva Jones

© Edgar Lee Masters

I am Minerva, the village poetess,
Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street
For my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk,
And all the more when "Butch" Weldy

Mrs. Merritt

© Edgar Lee Masters

Silent before the jury,
Returning no word to the judge when he asked me
If I had aught to say against the sentence,
Only shaking my head.

Mrs. Charles Bliss

© Edgar Lee Masters

Reverend Wiley advised me not to divorce him
For the sake of the children,
And Judge Somers advised him the same.
So we stuck to the end of the path.

Margaret Fuller Slack

© Edgar Lee Masters

I would have been as great as George Eliot
But for an untoward fate.
For look at the photograph of me made by Penniwit,
Chin resting on hand, and deep-set eyes --

Mrs. Sibley

© Edgar Lee Masters

The secret of the stars, -- gravitation.
The secret of the earth, -- layers of rock.
The secret of the soil, -- to receive seed.
The secret of the seed, -- the germ.

Memory

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

I nursed it in my bosom while it lived,
I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved
Alone and nothing said.

Mrs. Purkapile

© Edgar Lee Masters

He ran away and was gone for a year.
When he came home he told me the silly story
Of being kidnapped by pirates on Lake Michigan
And kept in chains so he could not write me.