| Poems by Women |
HER DWELLING-PLACE
Amid the fairest things that grow
My lady hath her
dwelling-place;
Where runnels flow, and frail buds blow
As shy and pallid
as her face.
The wild, bright creatures of the wood
About her fearless flit and
spring;
To light her dusky solitude
Comes April's earliest offering.
The calm Night from her urn of rest
Pours downward an unbroken
stream;
All day upon her mother's breast
My lady lieth in a dream.
Love could not chill her low, soft bed
With any sad memorial stone;
He
put a red rose at her head -
A flame as fragrant as his own.
Ada Foster Murray [1857-1936]
From: Stevenson, Burton Egbert.
The Home Book of Verse.
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
