Women poems
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Don Juan: Canto The Eleventh
© George Gordon Byron
When Bishop Berkeley said 'there was no matter,'
And proved it--'twas no matter what he said:
The Hotel
© Harriet Monroe
The long resounding marble corridors, the
shining parlors with shining women in
Spinning Songs
© Padraic Colum
But she said to him, "The goods you proffer
Are far from my mind as the silk of the sea!
The arms of him, my young love, round me,
Is all the treasure that's true for me!"
Madeleine Vercheres
© William Henry Drummond
I've told you many a tale, my child, of the
old heroic days
Who
© Sylvia Plath
The month of flowering's finished. The fruit's in,
Eaten or rotten. I am all mouth.
October's the month for storage.
Anhelli - Chapter 5
© Juliusz Slowacki
And so the Shaman and Anhelli made their pilgrimage through the sorrowful country
and over the desolate roads and under the roaring forests of Siberia,
meeting men who suffered, and comforting them.
A Ballad Of Fair Ladies In Revolt
© George Meredith
See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath
The ever-falling fountain of green leaves
Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath
Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through,
To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves:
Is one for me? is one for you?
Hermann And Dorothea - VII. Erato
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Joyfully heard the youth the willing maiden's decision,
Doubting whether he now had not better tell her the whole truth;
But it appear'd to him best to let her remain in her error,
First to take her home, and then for her love to entreat her.
Ah! but now he espied a golden ring on her finger,
And so let her speak, while he attentively listen'd:--
The Travelling Bear
© Amy Lowell
GRASS-BLADES push up between the cobblestones
And catch the sun on their flat sides
Litany for Dictatorships
© Stephen Vincent Benet
For all those beaten, for the broken heads,
The fosterless, the simple, the oppressed,
The ghosts in the burning city of our time ...
March
© Susie Frances Harrison
With outstretched whirring wings of van-dyked jet,
Two crows one day o'er house and pavement pass'd.
Commission
© Ezra Pound
Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve-racked, go to the enslaved-by-convention,
Bear to them my contempt for their oppressors.
Go as a great wave of cool water,
Bear my contempt of oppressors.
1946-47
© Jibanananda Das
Thousands of Bengali villages, silent and powerless, sink into
hopelessness and lightlessness.
When the sun sets, a certain lovely haired darkness
Comes to fix her hair in-a bun-but by whose hands?
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04:
© Conrad Aiken
She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
Pippa Passes: Part IV: Night
© Robert Browning
Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you. Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?Benedicto benedicatur . . . ugh, ugh! Where was I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is mild, very unlike winter-weather: but I am a Sicilian, you know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when 't was full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the Intendant]
Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.
Community
© John Donne
Good we must love, and must hate ill,
For ill is ill, and good good still ;
But there are things indifferent,
Which wee may neither hate, nor love,
But one, and then another prove,
As we shall find our fancy bent.
