Women poems
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Xantippe(A Fragment)
© Amy Levy
What, have I waked again? I never thought
To see the rosy dawn, or ev'n this grey,
Shakuntala Act II
© Kalidasa
ACT II
SCENE A PLAIN, with royal pavilions on the skirt of the forest.
The Virgin
© William Wordsworth
. Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost
With the least shade of thought to sin allied.
Winter Trees
© Sylvia Plath
The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.
On their blotter of fog the trees
Seem a botanical drawing.
Memories growing, ring on ring,
A series of weddings.
An Old Proverb
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
What is the value then
To all those sleeping men?
It will be all the same,
Passion and grief and blame.
This in the years to be,
My God, the tragedy!
Windy Night (Haoyar Rat)
© Jibanananda Das
My heart filled with the scent of a vast green grassy veldt,
With horizon-flooding blazing sunlight scent,
With the restless, massive, vibrant, woolly outburst of darkness,
Like growls of an aroused tigress,
With life's untamable blue intoxication!
New Mexican Mountain
© Robinson Jeffers
I watch the Indians dancing to help the young corn at Taos
pueblo. The old men squat in a ring
And make the song, the young women with fat bare arms, and a
few shame-faced young men, shuffle the dance.
Don Juan: Canto The First
© George Gordon Byron
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
She Mothered Five
© Edgar Albert Guest
She mothered five!
Night after night she watched a little bed,
The Burgher's Battle
© William Morris
Thick rise the spear-shafts oer the land
That erst the harvest bore;
Mother's Party Dress
© Edgar Albert Guest
"Some day," says Ma, "I'm goin' to get
A party dress all trimmed with jet,
Morning Twilight
© Charles Baudelaire
Reveille was sounding on barrack-squares,
and the wind of dawn blew on lighted stairs.
It was the hour when a swarm of evil visions
torments swarthy adolescents, when pillows hum:
The Brus Book XVII
© John Barbour
[Only Berwick remains in English hands; a burgess offers to betray it]
The lordis off the land war fayne
The Sage Enamoured And The Honest Lady
© George Meredith
Our world believes it stabler if the soft
Are whipped to show the face repentance wears.
Then hear it, in a moan of atheist gloom,
Deplore the weedy growth of hypocrites;
Count Nature devilish, and accept for doom
The chasm between our passions and our wits!
