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| Poems by Women |
BALLAD
Harriet Prescott Spofford [1835-1921]
In the summer even,
While yet the dew was hoar,
I
went plucking purple pansies,
Till my love should come to shore.
The
fishing-lights their dances
Were keeping out at sea,
And come, I sung, my
true love!
Come hasten home to me!
But the sea, it fell a-moaning,
And the white gulls rocked thereon;
And
the young moon dropped from heaven,
And the lights hid one by one.
All
silently their glances
Slipped down the cruel sea,
And wait! cried the
night and wind and storm, -
Wait, till I come to thee!
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) |
