Women poems

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Hiawatha's Departure

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer morning,

The Ghosts

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Never stoops the soaring vulture
On his quarry in the desert,
On the sick or wounded bison,
But another vulture, watching

Blessing The Cornfields

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,
Of the happy days that followed,
In the land of the Ojibways,
In the pleasant land and peaceful!

The Song of Hiawatha: X

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"As unto the bow the cord is,
So unto the man is woman,
Though she bends him, she obeys him,
Though she draws him, yet she follows,
Useless each without the other!"

Hiawatha's Childhood

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Downward through the evening twilight,
In the days that are forgotten,
In the unremembered ages,
From the full moon fell Nokomis,

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

All That I Owe The Fellows Of The Grave

© Dylan Thomas

All that I owe the fellows of the grave
And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates
Lies in the fortuned bone, the flask of blood,
Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots.

Ballad Of The Long-Legged Bait

© Dylan Thomas

The bows glided down, and the coast
Blackened with birds took a last look
At his thrashing hair and whale-blue eye;
The trodden town rang its cobbles for luck.

Especially When The October Wind

© Dylan Thomas

Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,

Lament

© Dylan Thomas

When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,

A Child's Christmas In Wales

© Dylan Thomas

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound
except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember
whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve
nights when I was six.

shapeshifter poems

© Lucille Clifton

1the legend is whispered
in the women's tent
how the moon when she rises
full

Title divine -- is mine!

© Emily Dickinson

Title divine -- is mine!
The Wife -- without the Sign!
Acute Degree -- conferred on me --
Empress of Calvary!

Those fair -- fictitious People

© Emily Dickinson

Those fair -- fictitious People --
The Women -- plucked away
From our familiar Lifetime --
The Men of Ivory --

The Leaves like Women interchange

The Leaves like Women interchange
Exclusive Confidence --
Somewhat of nods and somewhat
Portentous inference.

Read -- Sweet -- how others -- strove

Read -- Sweet -- how others -- strove --
Till we -- are stouter --
What they -- renounced --
Till we -- are less afraid --

Like Men and Women Shadows walk

Like Men and Women Shadows walk
Upon the Hills Today --
With here and there a mighty Bow
Or trailing Courtesy

It will be Summer -- eventually.

It will be Summer -- eventually.
Ladies -- with parasols --
Sauntering Gentlemen -- with Canes --
And little Girls -- with Dolls --

I'll clutch -- and clutch

I'll clutch -- and clutch --
Next -- One -- Might be the golden touch --
Could take it --
Diamonds -- Wait --
I'm diving -- just a little late --
But stars -- go slow -- for night --

How dare the robins sing,

How dare the robins sing,
When men and women hear
Who since they went to their account
Have settled with the year! --