Women poems

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Song at Sunset.

© Walt Whitman

SPLENDOR of ended day, floating and filling me!
Hour prophetic—hour resuming the past!
Inflating my throat—you, divine average!
You, Earth and Life, till the last ray gleams, I sing.

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Walt Whitman.

© Walt Whitman

1
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.

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Letter Of Recommendation From My Father To My Future Wife

© Richard Jones

During the war, I was in China.
Every night we blew the world to hell.
The sky was purple and yellow
like his favorite shirt.

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The Two Kings

© William Butler Yeats

King Eochaid came at sundown to a wood
Westward of Tara. Hurrying to his queen
He had outridden his war-wasted men
That with empounded cattle trod the mire,

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The Grey Rock

© William Butler Yeats

'The Danish troop was driven out
Between the dawn and dusk,' she said;
'Although the event was long in doubt.
Although the King of Ireland's dead
And half the kings, before sundown
All was accomplished.

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Model For The Laureate

© William Butler Yeats

On thrones from China to Peru
All sorts of kings have sat
That men and women of all sorts
proclaimed both good and great;

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Hound Voice

© William Butler Yeats

Because we love bare hills and stunted trees
And were the last to choose the settled ground,
Its boredom of the desk or of the spade, because
So many years companioned by a hound,

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Michael Robartes And The Dancer

© William Butler Yeats

He. Put it so;
But bear in mind your lover's wage
Is what your looking-glass can show,
And that he will turn green with rage
At all that is not pictured there.

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Three Things

© William Butler Yeats

`O cruel Death, give three things back,'
Sang a bone upon the shore;
`A child found all a child can lack,
Whether of pleasure or of rest,
Upon the abundance of my breast':
A bone wave-whitened and dried in the wind.

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He Tells Of A Valley Full Of Lovers

© William Butler Yeats

I dreamed that I stood in a valley, and amid sighs,
For happy lovers passed two by two where I stood;
And I dreamed my lost love came stealthily out of the wood
With her cloud-pale eyelids falling on dream-dimmed eyes:

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In Memory Of Alfred Pollexfen

© William Butler Yeats

Five-and-twenty years have gone
Since old William pollexfen
Laid his strong bones down in death
By his wife Elizabeth

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Presences

© William Butler Yeats

This night has been so strange that it seemed
As if the hair stood up on my head.
From going-down of the sun I have dreamed
That women laughing, or timid or wild,

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When Helen Lived

© William Butler Yeats

We have cried in our despair
That men desert,
For some trivial affair
Or noisy, insolent sport,

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The Tower

© William Butler Yeats

IWhat shall I do with this absurdity -
O heart, O troubled heart - this caricature,
Decrepit age that has been tied to me
As to a dog's tail?

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In Tara's Halls

© William Butler Yeats

A man I praise that once in Tara's Hals
Said to the woman on his knees, 'Lie still.
My hundredth year is at an end. I think
That something is about to happen, I think

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The Wild Old Wicked Man

© William Butler Yeats

Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.

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Oil And Blood

© William Butler Yeats

In tombs of gold and lapis lazuli
Bodies of holy men and women exude
Miraculous oil, odour of violet.

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Under The Moon

© William Butler Yeats

Because of something told under the famished horn
Of the hunter's moon, that hung between the night and the day,
To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dis may,
Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne.

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Vacillation

© William Butler Yeats

Things said or done long years ago,
Or things I did not do or say
But thought that I might say or do,
Weigh me down, and not a day
But something is recalled,
My conscience or my vanity appalled.

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The Lady's Second Song

© William Butler Yeats

What sort of man is coming
To lie between your feet?
What matter, we are but women.
Wash; make your body sweet;