I Love You

Last night I see a dreamThat I am in a gardenCool breeze is blowingThere are colorful flowers everywhereSuddenly a beautiful GirlCome near to me and sayI Love You!I turned back to herAnd see in her eyesThere is a lot of Love in her eyesAfter some time I come to knowThat I know her very wellThat Girl is my classmate SaraI go near to herAnd kiss on her hands and sayI Love you too….Suddenly I

The Triumph Of Woman

Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tostTo reach secure at length his native coast,Who wandering long o'er distant lands has sped,The night-blast wildly howling round his head,Known all the woes of want, and felt the stormOf the bleak winter parch his shivering form;The journey o'er and every peril pastBeholds his little cottage-home at last,And as he sees afar the smoke curl slow,Feels his full

Sonnet 20: A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted

A woman's face with Nature's own hand paintedHast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;A woman's gentle heart, but not acquaintedWith shifting change, as is false women's fashion;An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.And for a woman wert thou first

Barren Woman, Sylvia Plath

Empty, I echo to the least footfall,
Museum without statues, grand with pillars,
porticoes, rotundas.
In my courtyard a fountain leaps and sinks
back into itself,
Nun-hearted and blind to the world. Marble lilies
Exhale their pallor like scent.

I imagine myself with a great public,
Mother of a white Nike and several bald-eyed Apollos.
Insread, the dead injure me attentions, and nothing
can

The Dead Woman

If suddenly you do not exist,if suddenly you are not living,I shall go on living.I do not dare,I do not dare to write it,if you die.I shall go on living.Because where a man has no voice,there, my voiceWhere blacks are beaten,I can not be dead.When my brothers go to jailI shall go with them.When victory,not my victory,but the great victoryarrives,even though I am mute I must speak:I shall see it

That Women Are But Men's Shadows

Follow a shadow, it still flies you;Seem to fly it, it will pursue:So court a mistress, she denies you;Let her alone, she will court you.Say, are not women truly thenStyled but the shadows of us men?At morn and even shades are longest,At noon they are or short or none;So men at weakest, they are strongest,But grant us perfect, they're not known.Say, are not women truly thenStyled but the shadows

A Form Of Women

I have come far enoughfrom where I was not beforeto have seen the thingslooking in at me from through the open doorand have walked tonightby myselfto see the moonlightand see it as treesand shapes more fearfulbecause I fearedwhat I did not knowbut have wanted to know.My facd is my own, I thought.But you have seen itturn into a thousand years.I watched you cry.I could not touch you.I wanted very

Cigarettes And Whiskey And Wild, Wild Women

Perhaps I was born kneeling,born coughing on the long winter,born expecting the kiss of mercy,born with a passion for quicknessand yet, as things progressed,I learned early about the stockadeor taken out, the fume of the enema.By two or three I learned not to kneel,not to expect, to plant my fires undergroundwhere none but the dolls, perfect and awful,could be whispered to or laid down to die.Now

Harp Song of the Dane Women

What is a woman that you forsake her,And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,To go with the old grey Widow-maker?She has no house to lay a guest in--But one chill bed for all to rest in,That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.She has no strong white arms to fold you,But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you--Out on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.Yet, when the signs of summer

There's Wisdom In Women

"Oh love is fair, and love is rare"; my dear one she said,"But love goes lightly over". I bowed her foolish head,And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she;So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly.But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known,And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own,Or how should my dear one, being ignorant and

Countrywomen

These be twoCountrywomen.What a size!Grand big armsAnd round red faces;Big substantialSit-down-places;Great big bosoms firm as cheeseBursting through their country jackets;Wide big lapsAnd sturdy knees;Hands outspread,Round and rosy,Hands to holdA country posyOr a baby or a lamb--And such eyes!Stupid, shifty, small and slyPeeping through a slit of sty,Squinting through their neighbours' plackets.

Women

Women have no wilderness in them, They are provident instead, Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts To eat dusty bread. They do not see cattle cropping red winter grass,They do not hear Snow water going down under culverts Shallow and clear. They wait, when they should turn to journeys, They stiffen, when they should bend. They use against themselves that benevolence To which no man is

Women And Roses

I.I dream of a red-rose tree.And which of its roses threeIs the dearest rose to me?II.Round and round, like a dance of snowIn a dazzling drift, as its guardians, goFloating the women faded for ages,Sculptured in stone, on the poet's pages.Then follow women fresh and gay,Living and loving and loved to-day.Last, in the rear, flee the multitude of maidens,Beauties yet unborn. And all, to one cadence

Matilda

Matilda told such dreadful lies,
It made one gasp and stretch one's eyes;
Her aunt, who, from her earliest youth,
Had kept a strict regard for truth,
Attempted to believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not she
Discovered this infirmity.
For once, towards the close of day,
Matilda, growing tired of play
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star-- when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

Egyptian Serenade

SING again the song you sung
When we were together young
When there were but you and I
Underneath the summer sky.

Sing the song, and o'er and o'er
Though I know that nevermore
Will it seem the song you sung
When we were together young.