Women poems

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142

Meg's Curse

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The sun rode high in a cloudless sky

Of a perfect summer morn.

Over The Hills

© George Meredith

The old hound wags his shaggy tail,
And I know what he would say:
It's over the hills we'll bound, old hound,
Over the hills, and away.

Skirt Machinist

© Lesbia Harford

I am making great big skirts
For great big women
Amazons who've fed and slept
Themselves inhuman.

When the Christians were doomed to the lions of old
By the priest and the praetor, combined to uphold
An idolatrous cause,
Forth they came while the vast Colosseum throughout
Gathered thousands looked on, and they fell 'mid the shout
Of "the People's" applause.

The Empty Purse--A Sermon To Our Later Prodigal Son

© George Meredith

Thy knowledge of women might be surpassed:
As any sad dog's of sweet flesh when he quits
The wayside wandering bone!
No revilings of comrades as ingrates: thee
The tempter, misleader, and criminal (screened
By laws yet barbarous) own.

In The Garret

© Louisa May Alcott

Four little chests all in a row,

Dim with dust, and worn by time,

The Apostasy

© Thomas Traherne

One star

Is better far

Ad Finem Fideles

© Guy Wetmore Carryl

Far out, far out they lie. Like stricken women weeping,

Eternal vigil keeping with slow and silent tread

The Ancient Banner

© Anonymous

In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,

The bosom of his Father, and assumed

The Kalevala - Rune XXX

© Elias Lönnrot

THE FROST-FIEND.

The Song Of Hiawatha VI: Hiawatha's Friends

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Two good friends had Hiawatha,

Singled out from all the others,

Ave

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Mother of the Fair Delight,

Thou handmaid perfect in God's sight,

Age

© Anacreon

Oft am I by the women told,

Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old!

The Salt of the Earth

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

IF childhood were not in the world,
But only men and women grown;
No baby-locks in tendrils curled,
No baby-blossoms blown;

London Excursion

We gallop along
Alert and penetrating,
Roads open about us,
Housetops keep at a distance.

To A Beautiful Woman

SURELY, dame Nature made you in some dream
Of old-world women--Chriemhild, or bright
Aslauga, or Boadicea fierce and fair,
Or Berengaria as she rose, her lips
Yet ruddy from the poison that anoints
Her memory still, the queen of queenly wives.