Women poems
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From Faust - Second Part - Scene The Last
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
ANGELS.
[Hovering in the higher regions of air, and hearing the immortal
part of Faust.]
Mrs. Judge Jenkins
© Francis Bret Harte
(BEING THE ONLY GENUINE SEQUEL TO "MAUD MULLER"
Maud Muller all that summer day
Then
© Harry Kemp
When all the sea's high ships
Have dropped beyond my sky
And life's trumpet leaves my lips
And women pass me by -
Dear God, let me die!
Last before America
© Louis MacNeice
A spiral of green hay on the end of a rake:
The moment is sweat and sun-prick---children and old women
Big in a tiny field, midgets against the mountain,
So toy-like yet so purposed you could take
This for the Middle Ages.
Don Juan: Canto The Fourteenth
© George Gordon Byron
If from great nature's or our own abyss
Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
Praise O Doset
© William Barnes
We Do'set, though we mid be hwomely,
Be'nt asheäm'd to own our pleäce;
The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day
From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away,
Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay
A Sicilian Idyll
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - XI
© Ezra Pound
1
The harsh acts of your levity!
Many and many.
I am hung here, a scare-crow for lovers.
War
© John Le Gay Brereton
Silence the crackle and thunder of battling guns,
And drive your men to strategy of peace;
Crush ere its birth the hell-begotten crime;
Still theres a war that no true warrior shuns,
That knows no mercy, looks for no surcease,
But ghastlier battles, victories more sublime.
Unser Gott
© Karle Wilson Baker
(Yea, "Unser Gott! Our strength is Unser Gott!
Not that light-minded Bon Dieu of France!")
The Retreat From Moscow
© George Moses Horton
Sad Moscow, thy fate do I see,
Fire! fire! in the city all cry;
Like quails from the eagle all flee,
Escape in a moment or die.
A child said, What is the grass?
© Walt Whitman
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.
John James Audobon
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Some men live for warlike deeds,
Some for womens words.
John James Audubon
Lived to look at birds.
The Spellin'-Bee
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I NEVER shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin,
An' all us youngsters clambered in an' down the road went bobbin'
A Dirge of Joy
© Henry Lawson
Oh, I dance on the Liberal Ladys grave and the Labour Womans, too;
And the grave of the Female lie and shriek, with a dance that is wild and new.
And my only regret in this song-a-let as I dance over dale and hill,
Is the Yarn-of-the-Wife and the Tale-of-the-Girl that never a war can kill.
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts III.-V.
© John Logan
What venerable father stands aghast
In yonder porch? Beneath the weight of years,
And crush of sorrow to the earth he bends.
He wrings his hands; casts a wild look to heaven,
And rends his hoary locks. He comes this way.
Heavens, it is Albemarle!-
