Women poems

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Gigolo

© Sylvia Plath

Pocket watch, I tick well.
The streets are lizardly crevices
Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide.
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac,

Reuben Pantier

© Edgar Lee Masters

Well, Emily Sparks, your prayers were not wasted,
Your love was not all in vain.
I owe whatever I was in life
To your hope that would not give me up,

In the night Reave dreamed that Helen
Lay with him in the deep grave, he awoke loathing her,
But when the weak moment between sleep and waking
Was past, his need of her and his judgment of her
Knew their suspended duel; and he heard her breathing,
Irregularly, gently in the dark.

Plymouth Rock Joe

© Edgar Lee Masters

Why are you running so fast hither and thither
Chasing midges or butterflies?
Some of you are standing solemnly scratching for grubs;
Some of you are waiting for corn to be scattered.

Trainor the Druggist

© Edgar Lee Masters

Only the chemist can tell, and not always the chemist,
What will result from compounding
Fluids or solids.
And who can tell

Friends

© William Butler Yeats

NOW must I these three praise -

Three women that have wrought

The Municipal Gallery Revisited

© William Butler Yeats

AROUND me the images of thirty years:

An ambush; pilgrims at the water-side;

Nepenthe

© Henry Van Dyke

Yes, it was like you to forget,

And cancel in the welcome of your smile

Yesterday and Today XII

© Khalil Gibran

The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles

Yes, Atthis, you may be sure

© Sappho

of the life we shared here, when you seemed
the Goddess incarnate
to her and your singing pleased her best

The Dance To Death. Act IV

© Emma Lazarus

The City Hall at Nordhausen. Deputies and Burghers assembling.
To the right, at a table near the President's chair, is seated
the Public Scrivener. Enter DIETRICH VON TETTENBORN, and HENRY
SCHNETZEN with an open letter in his hand.

Women

© Louise Bogan

Women have no wilderness in them,
They are provident instead,
Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts
To eat dusty bread.

An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford to hasten Him into the Country

© Thomas Randolph

COME, spur away,

I have no patience for a longer stay,

Men Loved Wholly Beyond Wisdom

© Louise Bogan

Men loved wholly beyond wisdom
Have the staff without the banner.
Like a fire in a dry thicket
Rising within women's eyes

Dyke Side

© John Clare

The frog croaks loud, and maidens dare not pass

But fear the noisome toad and shun the grass;

Theodore the Poet

As a boy, Theodore, you sat for long hours

On the shore of the turbid Spoon

The Hanging Of Levski

© Hristo Botev

O you, my Mother, my Native Land,
Why is your cry so sad and heart-rending!
And you, O Raven, accursed bird,
On whose grave croak you of ill impending?