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Margaret Steele Anderson
1867? - 1921
Poetry Listing
Please Note: This list is not comprehensive, but is an ongoing work of the love of poetry.
Within this area you will be able to read, and give your thoughts on the poetry listed.
Please, if you find an error, let me know.
Read More About Margaret Steele Anderson below poetry list
| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads | | 1: | A Boy's Virgil. | Dust on the page, from these forgetful years! | | 18 | 102 | | 2: | A Greek Lyrist Sings Of Apollo. | Ah, it was he I heard at early dawn, | | 12 | 83 | | 3: | A Stage-Figure. | A thing of flesh and blood? Not so! | | 8 | 70 | | 4: | Agostino Di Duccio. | The chime of silver bells; the sweet | | 6 | 95 | | 5: | Allurement. | From yonder hedge, from yonder spray, | | 16 | 202 | | 6: | Autumn. | Tainted with death? Ah then, the taint is sweet! | | 11 | 123 | | 7: | Beatrice. | Vision of light, above triumphal car | | 6 | 104 | | 8: | Childless. | Up to the little grave, with blossoms kept, | | 6 | 106 | | 9: | Conscience. | Wisdom am I when thou art but a fool; | | 4 | 140 | | 10: | Courage. | I thank thee, Life, that though I be | | 12 | 105 | | 11: | Donatello. | Child of the North, within thy Northern eyes | | 4 | 119 | | 12: | From Sudden Death. . . . | Roses about my way, and roses still! | | 18 | 187 | | 13: | God, The Complement. | Yea, by your wants bestead, | | 12 | 70 | | 14: | Habit. | So, then! Wilt use me as a garment? Well, | | 16 | 87 | | 15: | Hawthorne. | Child, lover, servant, master of Romance, | | 14 | 100 | | 16: | Imagination. | With the old gods thou walkest, 'mid the leaf | | 8 | 112 | | 17: | In The Dawn. | At night it is not strange that thou art dead; | | 4 | 134 | | 18: | In The Image Of God. | The falling of a leaf upon thy way, | | 24 | 91 | | 19: | La Doleur De La Jeunessb. | Ah, love, why love you tears? | | 24 | 94 | | 20: | Lines Written To A Translator Of Greek Poetry. | A wild spring upland all this charmed page, | | 18 | 72 | | 21: | Lost Youth. | He took the earth as earth had been his throne; | | 12 | 93 | | 22: | Madison Cawein | The wind makes moan, the water runneth chill; | December 12th, 1914 | 28 | 83 | | 23: | Michael Angelo's "Dawn." | Dawn, midnight, noonday? What are times to thee | | 14 | 75 | | 24: | Not This World. | Shall I not give this world my heart, and well? | | 28 | 86 | | 25: | Odes Of A Boy. | Fades the great pyramid, the blank walls fade! | | 12 | 87 | | 26: | On A Pompeiian Bust Called "Sappho." | Oh no, not this! This is a Roman face, | | 12 | 86 | | 27: | PAIN. | You eat the heart of life like some great beast, | | 12 | 87 | | 28: | Song. The Fallen Leaves. | The bride, she wears a white, white rose, the plucking, it was mine; | | 8 | 78 | | 29: | Spring. | I am a virgin, whom no man hath known, | | 5 | 119 | | 30: | Thalia And Melpomene. | The night would sadden us with wind and rain | | 14 | 91 | | 31: | The Angel And The Child. | 0, was it on that awful road, | | 16 | 109 | | 32: | The Breaking. | Bend now thy body to the common weight! | | 12 | 87 | | 33: | The Church. | Still, still thy garden hath its fruits and spices, | | 18 | 77 | | 34: | The Dead Child. | How young you are, for such lone majesty | | 12 | 81 | | 35: | The Demeter Of Praxiteles. | Demeter? 'Tis a name! For in thy face | | 12 | 75 | | 36: | The Doubter. | O friendly, that I never knew for friend, | | 12 | 99 | | 37: | The Dream. | They sing the race, the song is wildly sweet; | | 24 | 79 | | 38: | The Flame in the Wind | Dost thou burn low and tremble, all but die? | | 4 | 112 | | 39: | The Invalid Child. | When I see other women's sons at play, | | 8 | 98 | | 40: | The Italian Renaissance. | How splendid and how vain in thee | | 14 | 127 | | 41: | The Lesser Beauty. | You are the first wild violet of the year; | | 14 | 83 | | 42: | The Madonna Of The Veil. | Light through a little veil is all thy trace | | 15 | 84 | | 43: | The Mother. | Yes, Lord, I know! The child is thine | | 8 | 103 | | 44: | The Mystery. | This is your cup, the cup assigned to you | | 15 | 71 | | 45: | The Mystic. | When, wild and spent, I fly before | | 12 | 72 | | 46: | The Night-Watches. | The laurel withers on your brow, | | 16 | 80 | | 47: | The Prayer Of The Weak. | Lord of all strength, behold, I am but frail! | | 12 | 68 | | 48: | The Putto. | No child, no mortal child am I, | | 24 | 77 | | 49: | The Shadow. | Get you away! Is not the rose at flow'r? | | 16 | 99 | | 50: | The Shepherd. | Thy slender form I think I see | | 16 | 96 | | 51: | The Sin. | That haunting air had some far strain of it, | | 12 | 78 | | 52: | The Spring Afterwards. | Ah, give again the pitiless snow and sleet | | 6 | 97 | | 53: | The Trees. | When on the spring's enchanting blue | | 12 | 95 | | 54: | The Victor. | Thou hast not lived! No aim of earth | | 32 | 65 | | 55: | The Violinist. | But that one air for all that throng! And yet | | 14 | 96 | | 56: | To A Fighter, Dead. | Pass, pass, you fiery spirit! Never bland | | 9 | 101 | | 57: | To The Fighting Weak. | Stand up, you Strong! Touch glasses! To the Weak! | | 30 | 88 | | 58: | To The Men Who Went Down On The Titanic. | Once more I read, writ out in blood and tears, | | 16 | 93 | | 59: | Where There Is No Vision The People Perish. | Spare us, Lord, that last, that dreariest ill! | | 14 | 103 | | 60: | Whistler. | So sharp the sword, so airy the defence! | | 8 | 69 | | 61: | Work. | Mine is the shape forever set between | | 12 | 77 |
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