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Best Poems Written by Jean Ward

Below are the all-time best Jean Ward poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Other Mary: Mary Owens Part I

Abraham Lincoln took notice
when she, Mary Owens,
a blue eyed, dark haired beauty
was in New Salem in 1833; visiting.
Of course he took notice!
She was born on September 29, 1808
in Green County on the Green River,
in Greensburg,
in South Central Kentucky.
Her father, Nathaniel, a prominent
Green County pioneer and business man
became the first High Sheriff of the county
and a Quarter Sessions Court Judge.
Mr. Lincoln asked her to marry him in 1836.
After his letter dated May 7, 1837,
she turned him down.

Mary Owens tells us:
I agree with Mary Todd Lincoln,
we do not kiss and tell,
but Abraham Lincoln
wrote me a letter,
and well,
after I read it,
I decided, with a good heart,
to decline. Just something
that was not designed
to be, so I declined.

It was at that time
I met Jesse Vinney,
we married and moved to Missouri.
But I will say of Mr. Lincoln,
"He was a man with a heart full
of kindness
and a head full of sense."

CONTINUED PART II

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Abraham Walks In Wonder

Homage to Lord Byron.

He...walks in wonder all the night
of beclouded starry skies;
and all that's there is dark, and bright
within his dark eyes...non denies
they sparkle within the stars light,
that e'en Heaven could not deny.

One ray more; I must confess
would grace the gloomiest day's race
that impaired the Heaven's blest,
or lightened his deserved place--
where thoughts kindly, how i wished
for pure and dear his dwelling place.

Peace I'd wish that face and brow,
so soft, and kind, and though spent,
I would've lent...to him a smile,
and a mind of peace well known;
peace with life left here below,
and a heart where love is innocent.

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Sweet and Angelic Anne (Anne Rutledge)

We do not kiss and tell, but well
Abraham Lincoln did tell
me about Anne; Anne Rutledge,
also born in Kentucky.
The only girl in school where he
attended for three months;
they shared a grammar book.

Her family owned a tavern where he
stayed in New Salem, Illinois.
Relationship, yes. Romance, no!
She was engaged,
and Abraham Lincoln was slow...

Since his mother's death
he can-not handle death,
and her death
shocked him to the core.
She was not much over twenty.
There has been rumors--a plenty.
It would sadden me if he did-not care for her;
good friends they always were,
and it might have been more,
had he not slipped through death's door.

Additional; Mary Lincoln is speaking;

That synchofant!
Billy . . . Herndon
spread those rumors
about my husband and Anne Rutledge.
He decided to make some money
going around speaking; lies, all lies.
He wrote a book about Mr. Lincoln.

I warned Mr. Lincoln
not to partner with him.
Time has proven me to be right.
I will not stand by
and listen to these falsehoods!
Do not believe a word
of his nonsense.

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They Read Aloud To Each Other

We are in Lexington and it is 1847

Emilie laughs, and we smile,
and still we read aloud together.
Mr. Lincoln likes the Niles
Weekly Rigister--especially
and of course the poetry. Especially
"Thanatopsis"
He bracketed this:
But, Ah! What wish can prosper, or what prayer
for merchants rich in cargos of despair,
who drive a loathsome traffic, gauge and span,
and buy the muscles and the bones of man?
The tender ties of father, husband, friend,
all bonds of nature in that moment end;
and each endures, while yet he draws his breath,
a stroke as fatal as the scythe of death.

He likes the "Graveyard School" of Poetry;
see Bryant advise when one's own time comes
to join the "innumerable caravan."

. . . approach thy grave,
like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

My husband, do not read any more sad poems
about the end of time.
Then write, my husband, write;
about the quickly passing years,
and how peace shall fill this land.
How we shall all walk as brothers,
and sisters one day, hand in hand.
Abraham Lincoln, my dear husband,
write of peace. Yes, write of peace;
that is enough . . . enough for now.

Emilie stares at me...awestruck . . . 
and does not understand my patience.

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Singin' Right Can Never Be Wrong Poem 2 of 4

POEM II

Honeysuckle grows all entwined,
Roses will soon need pruned.
I am in love, dear heart of mine.
I hear the call of the Loon.

Fireflies on the window sill.
Grasshoppers jump in the corn.
Sweet call of the Whip-poor-will,
and Bullfrog sings by the pond,

and--of you I am quite fond.
Fonder even than fond.

Oh, dear heart of mind
tell me another yarn,
about the time of Whip-poor-will
and the Bullfrogs song by the pond.

I wonder if Crickets dance,
do Ants work all the time?
As our arms do entwine,
dear heart of mine.

Are you in love
with me by chance,
dear heart of mine?

CONTINUED IN POEM III

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1839 Mary Entertains Abraham Lincoln

Moonbeams come
through the glass in the room,
and shine on this candle lit sight;
Carolina Jasmine is in full bloom,
and kerosene lights the night.

The Whigs...debate politics,
while two men play at chess.
I entertain...them tonight,
as I am divinely...dressed.
But then his hand brushes mine,
he's Abraham Lincoln.

No money at all, and ambitions,
some...say he'll never see,
but he and the sharp mind
that he has, is exactly...
what I seek.

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Singin' Right Can Never Be Wrong Poem 4 of 4

POEM IV

Dear heart of mine,
I ask for your hand.
Let me love you...always,
we will walk hand in hand.
Hand in hand, Molly and Abe,
sunshine and in shade.
Forevre then, forever then,
completely unafraid.
Completely unafraid...
Just two young contrary souls
with kids to fill a home.
Never alone, never alone,
two souls growing old.

Two souls growing old,
Mrs. President and thee.
Whatever will be,
whatever will be.
Marry, marry me,
marry, marry me.

'cause right can never be wrong,
right can never be wrong.

THE END

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Singin' Right Can Never Be Wrong Poem I of 4

POEM I
I hear the doves
down by the creek
calling their lovely song,
I am in love, have been in love,
my love, all year long--

Chickadees sing their little song;
a song just for thee.
Robins jumping on the lawn,
I am in love, have been in love,
in love all year long--

Blue Jays singing baritone,
and the House Wrens cheer,
all together they sing loves song;
right can never be wrong,
right can never be wrong.

CONTINUED IN POEM II

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Singin' Right Can Never Be Wrong Poem 3 of 4

POEM III

Sing right along, sing right along,
along with me today.
Don't ask no more, don't ask no more;
that's all I have to say.
That's all I have to say.

The rays of the sun...shine down on me
giving me heat that I love.

God is in Heaven,
and all is right...my love.
All is right...my love.

All is right my love;
as Honeysuckle climbs
all together entwined.
I am in love, I am in love,
dear heart of mine,
dear heart of mine.

Sing right along,
right can never be wrong,
right can never be wrong.

CONTINUED IN POEM IV