| Poems by Women |
Where Love is
By the rosy cliffs of Devon, on a green hill's
crest,
I would build me a house as a swallow builds its nest;
I would
curtain it with roses, and the wind should breathe to me
The sweetness of the
roses and the saltness of the sea.
Where the Tuscan olives whiten in the hot blue day,
I would hide me from
the heat in a little hut of gray,
While the singing of the husbandman should
scale my lattice green
From the golden rows of barley that the poppies blaze
between.
Narrow is the street, Dear, and dingy are the walls
Wherein I wait your
coming as the twilight falls.
All day with dreams I gild the grime till at
your step I start -
Ah Love, my country in your arms - my home upon your
heart!
From: Rittenhouse, Jessie B.
The Second Book of Modern Verse (1919).
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) |
