Women poems
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Queen Marys Letter To Bothwell
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Pitiful gods! Have pity on my passion.
Teach me the road how I a certain proving
Shall make to him I love of my great loving,
My faith unchanged, nor plead it in fool's fashion.
Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
'Twas thus she comforted her soul. And then,
She had found a friend, a phoenix among men,
Which made it easier to compound with life,
Easier to be a woman and a wife.
Macleay Street and Red Rock Lane
© Henry Lawson
MACLEAY STREET looks to Mosman,
Across the other side,
The Wheels Of The System
© George Essex Evans
Where is God, whilst all around us sounds the jarring of the wheels,
When the cry of human anguish starwards thro His glory steals?
There is neither hope nor pity underneath the moving wheels.
Woe to him who slips or falters whilst the wheels are moving on!
Woe to him who stays to breathe him when the goal is nearly won!
There they lieand lie for everover whom the wheels have gone!
Remembrance
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The northeast blows,
my favorite among winds,
since it promises fiery spirit
and a good voyage to mariners.
Old-Fashioned Folks
© Edgar Albert Guest
OLD-FASHIONED folks! God bless 'em all!
The fathers an' the mothers,
Expostulation
© William Cowper
Why weeps the muse for England? What appears
In England's case to move the muse to tears?
Safe by Steven Huff: American Life in Poetry #151 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Thirty, forty years ago, there were lots of hitchhikers, college students, bent old men and old women, and none of them seemed fearful of being out there on the highways at the mercy of strangers. All that's changed, and nobody wants to get in a car with a stranger. Here Steven Huff of New York tells us about a memorable ride.
Safe
Second Love
© Dorothy Parker
How shall I count the midnights I have known
When calm you turn to me, nor feel me start,
To find my easy lips upon your own
And know my breast beneath your rhythmic heart.
Your god defer the day I tell you this:
My lad, my lad, it is not you I kiss!
The Wild Ride
© Louise Imogen Guiney
The trail is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses;
There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:
What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.
How Lucy Backslid
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
De times is mighty stirrin' 'mong de people up ouah way,
Dey 'sputin' an' dey argyin' an' fussin' night an' day;
An' all dis monst'ous trouble dat hit meks me tiahed to tell
Is 'bout dat Lucy Jackson dat was sich a mighty belle.
Tired
© Augusta Davies Webster
No not to-night, dear child; I cannot go;
I'm busy, tired; they knew I should not come;
you do not need me there. Dear, be content,
and take your pleasure; you shall tell me of it.
There, go to don your miracles of gauze,
and come and show yourself a great pink cloud.
The Coming Of Te Rauparaha.
© Arthur Henry Adams
BLUE, the wreaths of smoke, like drooping banners
From the flaming battlements of sunset
Hung suspended; and within his whare
Hipe, last of Ngatiraukawa's chieftains,
Women
© Margaret Widdemer
YOU fret and grieve and turn about
To make this world and living out,
With "This is so" and "That is so"
Ah, sirs, we learned it long ago!
Shop Girl
© Ezra Pound
For a moment she rested against me
Like a swallow half blown to the wall,
And they talk of Swinburne's women,
And the shepherdess meeting with Guido.
And the harlots of Baudelaire.
The Victories Of Love. Book II
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill
Geraint And Enid
© Alfred Tennyson
Then Enid pondered in her heart, and said:
'I will go back a little to my lord,
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die,
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.'
