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Famous Short Women Poems. Short Women Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Women Poems. Short Women Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Women short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

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by Emily Dickinson

Its such a little thing to weep

 It's such a little thing to weep --
So short a thing to sigh --
And yet -- by Trades -- the size of these
We men and women die!


by Walt Whitman

Beautiful Women.

 WOMEN sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young; 
The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.


by William Butler Yeats

Statistics

 'Those Platonists are a curse,' he said,
'God's fire upon the wane,
A diagram hung there instead,
More women born than men.
'


by Walt Whitman

Offerings.

 A THOUSAND perfect men and women appear, 
Around each gathers a cluster of friends, and gay children and youths, with offerings.


by Mother Goose

Oh, Dear!


Dear, dear! what can the matter be?
Two old women got up in an apple-tree;
One came down, and the other stayed till Saturday.


by William Blake

The Question Answered

 What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require? The lineaments of gratified Desire


by Stephen Crane

Charity thou art a lie

 Charity thou art a lie,
A toy of women,
A pleasure of certain men.
In the presence of justice, Lo, the walls of the temple Are visible Through thy form of sudden shadows.


by John Keats

Give Me Women Wine and Snuff

 GIVE me women, wine, and snuff 
Untill I cry out "hold, enough!" 
You may do so sans objection 
Till the day of resurrection: 
For, bless my beard, they aye shall be 
My beloved Trinity.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THE WAY TO BEHAVE.

 THOUGH tempers are bad and peevish folks swear,
Remember to ruffle thy brows, friend, ne'er;
And let not the fancies of women so fair
E'er serve thy pleasure in life to impair.
1815.
*


by Carl Sandburg

Glimmer

 LET down your braids of hair, lady.
Cross your legs and sit before the looking-glass And gaze long on lines under your eyes.
Life writes; men dance.
And you know how men pay women.


by Emily Dickinson

The Leaves like Women interchange

 The Leaves like Women interchange
Exclusive Confidence --
Somewhat of nods and somewhat
Portentous inference.
The Parties in both cases Enjoining secrecy -- Inviolable compact To notoriety.


by Jane Kenyon

Finding A Long Gray Hair

 I scrub the long floorboards
in the kitchen, repeating
the motions of other women
who have lived in this house.
And when I find a long gray hair floating in the pail, I feel my life added to theirs.


by Emily Dickinson

Like Men and Women Shadows walk

 Like Men and Women Shadows walk
Upon the Hills Today --
With here and there a mighty Bow
Or trailing Courtesy
To Neighbors doubtless of their own
Not quickened to perceive
Minuter landscape as Ourselves
And Boroughs where we live --


by William Butler Yeats

Father And Child

 She hears me strike the board and say
That she is under ban
Of all good men and women,
Being mentioned with a man
That has the worst of all bad names;
And thereupon replies
That his hair is beautiful,
Cold as the March wind his eyes.


by William Butler Yeats

Oil And Blood

 In tombs of gold and lapis lazuli
Bodies of holy men and women exude
Miraculous oil, odour of violet.
But under heavy loads of trampled clay Lie bodies of the vampires full of blood; Their shrouds are bloody and their lips are wet.


by Emily Dickinson

Endow the Living -- with the Tears --

 Endow the Living -- with the Tears --
You squander on the Dead,
And They were Men and Women -- now,
Around Your Fireside --

Instead of Passive Creatures,
Denied the Cherishing
Till They -- the Cherishing deny --
With Death's Ethereal Scron --


by Ezra Pound

Tame Cat

 It rests me to be among beautiful women
Why should one always lie about such matters?
I repeat:
It rests me to converse with beautiful women
Even though we talk nothing but nonsense,

The purring of the invisible antennae
Is both stimulating and delightful.


by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Blessed Among Women --To The Signora Cairoli

 Blessed was she that bare,
Hidden in flesh most fair,
For all men's sake the likeness of all love;
Holy that virgin's womb,
The old record saith, on whom
The glory of God alighted as a dove;
Blessed, who brought to gracious birth
The sweet-souled Saviour of a man-tormented earth.


by Carl Sandburg

Blue Ridge

 BORN a million years ago you stay here a million years …
watching the women come and live and be laid away …
you and they thin-gray thin-dusk lovely.
So it goes: either the early morning lights are lovely or the early morning star.
I am glad I have seen racehorses, women, mountains.


by James Wright

Trying To Pray

 This time, I have left my body behind me, crying
In its dark thorns.
Still, There are good things in this world.
It is dusk.
It is the good darkness Of women's hands that touch loaves.
The spirit of a tree begins to move.
I touch leaves.
I close my eyes and think of water.


by William Butler Yeats

When Helen Lived

 We have cried in our despair
That men desert,
For some trivial affair
Or noisy, insolent sport,
Beauty that we have won
From bitterest hours;
Yet we, had we walked within
Those topless towers
Where Helen waked with her boy,
Had given but as the rest
Of the men and women of Troy,
A word and a jest.


by Stephen Crane

There was crimson clash of war.

 There was crimson clash of war.
Lands turned black and bare; Women wept; Babes ran, wondering.
There came one who understood not these things.
He said, "Why is this?" Whereupon a million strove to answer him.
There was such intricate clamour of tongues, That still the reason was not.


by Carl Sandburg

Stars Songs Faces

 GATHER the stars if you wish it so.
Gather the songs and keep them.
Gather the faces of women.
Gather for keeping years and years.
And then … Loosen your hands, let go and say good-by.
Let the stars and songs go.
Let the faces and years go.
Loosen your hands and say good-by.


by Carl Sandburg

Portrait of a Motor Car

 IT’S a lean car … a long-legged dog of a car … a gray-ghost eagle car.
The feet of it eat the dirt of a road … the wings of it eat the hills.
Danny the driver dreams of it when he sees women in red skirts and red sox in his sleep.
It is in Danny’s life and runs in the blood of him … a lean gray-ghost car.


by Susan Rich

For Sale

 Xhosa women in clothes too light

for the weather have brought wild flowers

and sit sloped along the Claremont road.
I see her through rolled windows, watch her watch me to decide if I’ll pay.
It’s South Africa, after all, after apartheid; but we’re still idling here, my car to her curb, my automatic locks to her inadequate wage.


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