Women poems

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142

Song is Not Dead

© Robert Fuller Murray

Song is not dead, although to-day
Men tell us everything is said.
There yet is something left to say,
Song is not dead.

The Turtle And Sparrow. An Elegiac Tale

Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies,
Pale are his cheeks, and closed his eyes;
Those eyes, where beauty smiling lay,
Those eyes, where Love was used to play;
Ah! cruel Fate, alas how soon
That beauty and those joys are flown!

The Hill-Top

© John Greenleaf Whittier

The burly driver at my side,

We slowly climbed the hill,

When dey 'Listed Colored Soldiers

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

Dey was talkin' in de cabin, dey was talkin' in de hall;

But I listened kin' o' keerless, not a-t'inkin' 'bout it all;

Contrary Sary

© Edgar Albert Guest

Theres no sense arguin' with 'em," says Ebenezer Gates,
You can't convince the women that they ain't fit fer votes;
There's Sary got the notion that she's as good as man,
An' I can't show her diff'runt, an' no man livin' can.
She's most bnreasonubbel. 'Now, I suppose,' says she,
'If I got drunk each evenin' ye'd think lots more o' me?'

A Book of Dreams: Part I

© George MacDonald

I lay and dreamed. The master came
In his old woven dress;
I stood in joy, and yet in shame,
Oppressed with earthliness.

The Second Booke Of Qvodlibets

© Robert Hayman

Epigrams are much like to Oxymell,
Hony and Vineger compounded well:
Hony, and sweet in their inuention,
Vineger in their reprehension.
As sowre, sweet Oxymell, doth purge though fleagme:
These are to purge Vice, take them as they meane.

Lines Addressed to Miss Theodora Jane Cowper, On Himself

© William Cowper

William was once a bashful youth,
His modesty was such,
That one might say, to say the truth,
He rather had too much.

Arizona Poems: Mexican Quarter

© John Gould Fletcher

By an alley lined with tumble-down shacks,

And street-lamps askew, half-sputtering,

Tamar

© Robinson Jeffers

Grass grows where the flame flowered;
A hollowed lawn strewn with a few black stones
And the brick of broken chimneys; all about there
The old trees, some of them scarred with fire, endure the sea
wind.

Peasant Wedding

© William Carlos Williams

Pour the wine bridegroom
where before you the
bride is enthroned her hair

Dibdin's Ghost

© Eugene Field

Dear wife, last midnight, whilst I read

The tomes you so despise,

The Eve Of Waterloo

© George Gordon Byron

There was a sound of revelry by night,

And Belgium's capital had gathered then

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd

© Walt Whitman

When lilacs last in the door-yard bloomd,
And the great star early droopd in the western sky in the night,
I mourndand yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Summer Toils

"Of course, it is not nice for a gray-headed man,
To be shamed by the work of a young nincompoop,
When he intends to get more dollars for his pay,
And e'en is not ashamed to pry out more seed grain.
O what became of the bewhiskered Prussian days,
When hired help was so cheep and so obedient?