Women poems

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A Man Meets A Woman In The Street

© Randall Jarrell

Under the separated leaves of shade

Of the gingko, that old tree

Pomegranate Seed

© Edith Wharton

DEMETER PERSEPHONE
HECATE HERMES
In the vale of Elusis

Mothers And Wives

© Edgar Albert Guest

Mothers and wives, 'tis the call to arms

That the bugler yonder prepares to sound;

Then looking hard upon her, came to him
The power to feel and to perceive. Her teeth
Chattered, and all her limbs with shuddering failed,
And in her threadbare shawl was wrapped a child
That looked on him with wondering, wistful eyes.

Ye Wearie Wayfarer [A Dedication to the author of Holmby House"

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

Fytte I
By Wood and Wold
[A Preamble]

Rejected

© Henry Lawson

You might try to drown the sorrow, but the drink has no effect;
You cannot stand the barmaid with her coarse and vulgar wit;
And so you seek the street again, and start for home direct,
When youre hit, old manhard hit.

The Rape Of Lucrece

© William Shakespeare

TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.

The Dray

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Huge through the darkened street
The Dray comes, rolling an uneven thunder
Of wheels and trampling feet;
The shaken windows stare in sleepy wonder.

The Progress of Error

© William Cowper

Sing, muse (if such a theme, so dark, so long

May find a muse to grace it with a song),

Hermann And Dorothea - I. Kalliope

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd
I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment,
Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer.
Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward
Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket,
Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"

The Song Of Hiawatha XX: The Famine

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Oh the long and dreary Winter!

Oh the cold and cruel Winter!

Abraham Davenport

© John Greenleaf Whittier

'T was on a May-day of the far old year
Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell
Over the bloom and sweet life of the Spring,
Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon,
A horror of great darkness, like the night
In day of which the Norland sagas tell,--

Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf IX. -- Thangbrand The Pr

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Short of stature, large of limb,

Burly face and russet beard,

In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo

© Alfred Austin

But if now I slept, I should sleep to wake
To the sleepless pang and the dreamless ache,
To the wild babe blossom within my heart,
To the darkening terror and swelling smart,
To the searching look and the words apart,
And the hint of the tell-tale cuckoo.

When We Are All Asleep

WHEN He returns, and finds the world so drear,

All sleeping, young and old, unfair and fair,

Rose Mary

Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone

Lost the first, but the second won.

The Death Of Adam

Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes
Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms,
Through all the tempests of seven hundred years
Fast in their ancient place, where they look down