| Poems by Women |
The Water Ouzel
Little brown surf-bather of the mountains!
Spirit of
foam, lover of cataracts, shaking your wings in falling waters!
Have you no
fear of the roar and rush when Nevada plunges --
Nevada, the shapely dancer,
feeling her way with slim white fingers?
How dare you dash at Yosemite the
mighty --
Tall, white limbed Yosemite, leaping down, down over the
cliff?
Is it not enough to lean on the blue air of mountains?
Is it not
enough to rest with your mate at timberline, in bushes that hug
the
rocks?
Must you fly through mad waters where the heaped-up granite breaks
them?
Must you batter your wings in the torrent?
Must you plunge for life
and death through the foam?
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) |
