| Poems by Women |
SONG From 'The Way Of Perfect Love'
Something calls and whispers, along the city
street,
Through shrill cries of children and soft stir of feet,
And makes
my blood to quicken and makes my flesh to pine.
The mountains are calling;
the winds wake the pine.
Past the quivering poplars that tell of water near
The long road is
sleeping, the white road is clear.
Yet scent and touch can summon, afar from
brook and tree,
The deep boom of surges, the gray waste of sea.
Sweet to dream and linger, in windless orchard close,
On bright brows of
ladies to garland the rose,
But all the time are glowing, beyond this little
world,
The still light of planets and the star-swarms whirled.
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) |
