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| Poems by Women |
The Mould
No doubt this active will,
So bravely steeped in
sun,
This will has vanquished Death
And foiled oblivion.
But this indifferent clay,
This fine experienced hand,
So quiet, and
these thoughts
That all unfinished stand,
Feel death as though it were
A shadowy caress;
And win and wear a
frail
Archaic wistfulness.
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) |
