| Poems by Women |
SPINNING IN APRIL
Josephine Preston Peabody [1874-1922]
Moon in heaven's garden, among the clouds that
wander,
Crescent moon so young to see, above the April ways,
Whiten, bloom
not yet, not yet, within the twilight yonder;
All my spinning is not done,
for all the loitering days.
Oh, my heart has two wild wings that ever would be flying!
Oh, my heart's
a meadow-lark that ever would be free!
Well it is that I must spin until the
light be dying;
Well it is the little wheel must turn all day for me!
All the hill-tops beckon, and beyond the western meadows
Something calls
me ever, calls me ever, low and clear:
A little tree as young as I, the
coming summer shadows, -
The voice of running waters that I ever thirst to
hear.
Oftentime the plea of it has set my wings a-beating;
Oftentimes it coaxes,
as I sit in weary-wise,
Till the wild life hastens out to wild things all
entreating,
And leaves me at the spinning-wheel, with dark, unseeing
eyes.
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) |
