Here are my favorite poems about attitude categorized:
- Short poems about attitude
- Inspirational poems about attitude
- Poems about attitude for girls
So if you want the best poems about attitude, then you’re in the right place.
Let’s get straight to it!
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Fearless Poems About Attitude
Poetry has always been a powerful medium for expressing the complexities of human emotions and perspectives.
This collection of poems delves into the intricate layers of attitude, exploring the depths of resilience, determination, and optimism.
These poetic verses not only celebrate the strength of the human spirit but also challenge societal norms and inspire self-expression.
Through powerful descriptive language, rhythmic cadence, and thought-provoking metaphors, these classic poems invite us to explore the depths of our own attitudes and embrace the power of our individuality.
So let’s now explore a selection of verses that capture the fiery, unapologetic, and transformative nature of attitude.
Keep scrolling down!
My #1 Favorite Poem About Attitude
“Assertion” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I am serenity. Though passions beat
Like mighty billows on my helpless heart,
I know beyond them lies the perfect sweet
Serenity, which patience can impart.
And when wild tempests in my bosom rage,
“Peace, peace,” I cry, “it is my heritage.”
I am good health. Though fevers rack my brain
And rude disorders mutilate my strength,
A perfect restoration after pain,
I know shall be my recompense at length.
And so through grievous day and sleepless night,
“Health, health,” I cry, “it is my own by right.”
I am success. Though hungry, cold, ill-clad,
I wander for awhile, I smile and say,
“It is but for a time—I shall be glad
To-morrow, for good fortune comes my way.
God is my father, He has wealth untold,
His wealth is mine, health, happiness, and gold.”
Why “Assertion” Is My Favorite Poem About Attitude
I see Ella Wheeler Wilcox as one of the pioneers of women’s empowerment, which is why I admire her.
Her fearless works, which were rather unconventional during her time, show her optimistic and resilient attitude towards life.
And that is exactly the message that I love about her poem “Assertion”.
This motivational piece definitely offers words of wisdom from which we can draw inspiration and apply in our daily lives today.
This poem encourages us to continue pushing forward, no matter how tough it gets.
Even though difficult situations may slow us down, sometimes all it takes is to affirm oneself, recognize one’s uniqueness, and above all, stay grateful for the blessings around us.
Short Poems About Attitude
These short poems about attitude take you on a captivating journey of concise verses that pack a punch.
Each verse is a testament to the power of attitude, reminding us that our mindset holds the key to unlocking endless possibilities.
Let’s dive into it!
“Limitless” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
When the motive is right and the will is strong
There are no limits to human power;
For that great Force back of us moves along
And takes us with it, in trial’s hour.
And whatever the height you yearn to climb,
Though it never was trod by the foot of man,
And no matter how steep—I say you can,
If you will be patient—and use your time.
“Be Glad” by Madison Julius Cawein
Be glad, just for to-day!
O heart, be glad!
Cast all your cares away!
Doff all that ‘s sad!
Put of your garments gray
Be glad to-day!
Be merry while you-can;
For life is short
It seemeth but a span
Before we part.
Let each maid take her man,
And dance while dance she can:
Life’s but a little span
Be merry while you can.
“Steadfast” by George MacDonald
Here stands a giant stone from whose far top
Comes down the sounding water: let me gaze
Till every sense of man and human ways
Is wrecked and quenched for ever, and I drop
Into the whirl of time, and without stop
Pass downward thus! Again my eyes I raise
To thee, dark rock; and through the mist and haze
My strength returns when I behold thy prop
Gleam stern and steady through the wavering wrack.
Surely thy strength is human, and like me
Thou bearest loads of thunder on thy back!
And, lo, a smile upon thy visage black–
A breezy tuft of grass which I can see
Waving serenely from a sunlit crack!
“Strength” by Jean Blewett
Write on Life’s tablet all things tender, great and good,
Uncaring that full oft thou art misunderstood.
Interpretation true is foreign to the throng
That runs and reads; heed not its praise or blame. Be strong!
Write on with steady hand, and, smiling, say, “‘Tis well!”
If when thy deeds spell Heaven
The rabble read out Hell.
“The Choice” by William Butler Yeats
The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story’s finished, what’s the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day’s vanity, the night’s remorse.
“Choice” by Friedrich Schiller
If thou canst not give pleasure to all by thy deeds and thy knowledge,
Give it then, unto the few; many to please is but vain.
“Opportunity” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Send forth your heart’s desire, and work and wait;
The opportunities of life are brought
To our own doors, not by capricious fate,
But by the strong compelling force of thought.
“Humility” by Robert Herrick
Humble we must be, if to heaven we go:
High is the roof there; but the gate is low:
Whene’er thou speak’st, look with a lowly eye:
Grace is increased by humility.
“The Summit” by Helen Francesca Bantock
And so thou too, the height with me wilt climb,
Where fresh and wild the airs of heaven blow
Climb, higher climb, leaving all earth below,
And all that soft monotony of time,
With its still days and hours in measured chime,
Where men drag out existence, sunk in slow
Full-fattened ease! Quick, let us rise and go
Where the great mountains stand in gloom sublime,
Where torrents thunder, rushing to the deep.
Let those who will, lie soft and sleek and warm,
Ours be the strife, the glory of the storm;
Still let us climb, and on the giddy steep
Face the keen wind, fearless and wild and free
Drink in the breath of life, love, liberty!
“Struggle” by Sidney Lanier
My soul is like the oar that momently
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:
Each second I’m new-born from some new grave.
“The High-Hearted” by Helen Francesca Bantock
Now is the time, my brothers, to lift a battle-song
To shame the cowards in the fight, the loiterers in the
Now serried close our ranks must march, high held our
hearts and free,
To fight the fight, or die the death for dearest liberty!
We want no laggards in the rear, no waverers along,
For the race is to the swift, and the battle to the
“Self-Reliance” by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Henceforth, please God, forever I forego
The yoke of men’s opinions. I will be
Light-hearted as a bird, and live with God.
I find him in the bottom of my heart,
I hear continually his voice therein.
“Try Again” by John Hartley
Look around and see the great men
Who have risen from the poor
Some are judges, some are statesmen,
Ther’s a chance for you I’m sure.
Don’t give in because you’re weary,
Pleasure oft is bought by pain;
If unlucky, still be cheery,
Up and at it! try again.
“Tribute” by Katharine Forrest Hamill
To prove myself—aye, that’s my aim,
To prove myself for those
Who took me by the hand and held,
Nor cared if others chose
To notice or pass coldly by.
Thro’ stormiest of weather
Stood ever at my side, and said
We’ll face the world together!
Wouldst share a noble life? Then cast
No backward glances toward the past,
And though somewhat be lost and gone,
Yet do thou act as one new-born;
What each day needs, that shalt thou ask.
Each day will set its proper task.
“Three Kinds of Courage” by Roy Farrell Greene
There’s the courage that nerves you in starting to climb
The mount of success rising sheer;
And when you’ve slipped back there’s the courage sublime
That keeps you from shedding a tear.
These two kinds of courage, I give you my word,
Are worthy of tribute—but then,
You’ll not reach the summit unless you’ve the third—
The courage of try-it-again!
“Come Good or Evil” by William Makepeace Thackeray
Come wealth or want, come good or ill,
Let young and old accept their part,
And bow before the awful Will,
And bear it with an honest heart.
Who misses or who wins the prize
Go, lose or conquer as you can;
But if you fail, or if you rise,
Be each, pray God, a gentleman.
“Virtue” by Robert Herrick
Each must in virtue strive for to excel;
That man lives twice that lives the first life well.
“Virtue Is Sensible Of Suffering” by Robert Herrick
Though a wise man all pressures can sustain,
His virtue still is sensible of pain:
Large shoulders though he has, and well can bear,
He feels when packs do pinch him, and the where.
“Character” by Ralph Waldo Emerson
The sun set, but set not his hope:
Stars rose; his faith was earlier up:
Fixed on the enormous galaxy,
Deeper and older seemed his eye;
And matched his sufferance sublime
The taciturnity of time.
He spoke, and words more soft than rain
Brought the Age of Gold again:
His action won such reverence sweet
As hid all measure of the feat.
“I Conquer The World With Words” by Nizar Qabbani
I conquer the world with words,
conquer the mother tongue,
verbs, nouns, syntax.
I sweep away the beginning of things
and with a new language
that has the music of water the message of fire
I light the coming age
and stop time in your eyes
and wipe away the line
time from this single moment.
“Happy Thought” by Oliver Herford
The world is so full of a number of Mice
I’m sure that we all should be happy and nice.
“Behavior” by Walt Whitman
Behavior—fresh, native, copious, each one for himself or herself,
Nature and the Soul expressed–America and freedom expressed—In it the finest art,
In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy, to have their chance,
In it physique, intellect, faith—in it just as much as to manage an army or a city, or to write a book—perhaps more,
The youth, the laboring person, the poor person, rivalling all the rest—perhaps outdoing the rest,
The effects of the universe no greater than its;
For there is nothing in the whole universe that can be more effective
than a man’s or woman’s daily behavior can be,
In any position, in any one of These States.
“Life” by Bryan W. Procter
“We are born; we laugh; we weep;
We love, we droop; we die;
Ah! wherefore do we laugh or weep?
Why do we live, or die?
Who knows that secret deep?
Alas , not I!
Why doth the violet spring
Unseen by human eye?
Why do the radiant seasons bring
Sweet thoughts that quickly fly?
Why do our fond hearts cling
To things that die?
We toil through pain and wrong;
We fight, and fly;
We love; we lose; and then, ere long,
Stone-dead we lie.
O Life! is all thy song,
“Endure and die?”
“I Dream’d In A Dream” by Walt Whitman
I dream’d in a dream, I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth;
I dream’d that was the new City of Friends;
Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust love – it led the rest;
It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city,
And in all their looks and words.
“The Way To Behave” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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.
“My Faith” by Friedrich Schiller
Which religion do I acknowledge? None that thou namest.
“None that I name? And why so?” Why, for religion’s own sake?
“Let It Be Forgotten” by Sara Teasdale
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.
Let it be forgotten forever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long-forgotten snow.
“Let Us Forget” by James Whitcomb Riley
Let us forget. What matters it that we
Once reigned o’er happy realms of long-ago,
And talked of love, and let our voices low,
And ruled for some brief sessions royally?
What if we sung, or laughed, or wept maybe?
It has availed not anything, and so
Let it go by that we may better know
How poor a thing is lost to you and me.
But yesterday I kissed your lips, and yet
Did thrill you not enough to shake the dew
From your drenched lids – and missed, with no regret,
Your kiss shot back, with sharp breaths failing you;
And so, to-day, while our worn eyes are wet
With all this waste of tears, let us forget!
“Let Me Sing Of What I Know” by William Allingham
A wild west Coast, a little Town,
Where little Folk go up and down,
Tides flow and winds blow:
Night and Tempest and the Sea,
Human Will and Human Fate:
What is little, what is great?
Howsoe’er the answer be,
Let me sing of what I know.
“Joy” by Sara Teasdale
I am wild, I will sing to the trees,
I will sing to the stars in the sky,
I love, I am loved, he is mine,
Now at last I can die!
I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
Now at last I can live!
“Speak!” by William Wordsworth
Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what was once so fair?
Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?
Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant
Bound to thy service with unceasing care,
The mind’s least generous wish a mendicant
For nought but what thy happiness could spare.
Speak though this soft warm heart, once free to hold
A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,
Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
Than a forsaken bird’s-nest filled with snow
‘Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine
Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!
Inspirational Poems About Attitude
These inspirational poems about attitude breathe life into the power of perspective, guiding us to embrace positivity and resilience in the face of challenges.
Through rhythmic verses and evocative imagery, these poems ignite a spark within, reminding us that our attitude can shape our destiny.
Let’s get into it!
“Be Quiet!” by William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)
Soul, dost thou fear
For to-day or to-morrow?
‘Tis the part of a fool
To go seeking sorrow.
Of thine own doing
Thou canst not contrive them.
‘Tis He that shall give them;
Thou may’st not outlive them.
So why cloud to-day
With fear of the sorrow,
That may or may not
“Good Life, Long Life” by Ben Jonson
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night,—
It was the plant and flower of Light.
In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.
“The Optimist” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The fields were bleak and sodden. Not a wing
Or note enlivened the depressing wood,
A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood
Beside the roadway. Winds came muttering
Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting
Of icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle mooed
Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth’s green food.
No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.
The sky was blank and ashen, like the face
Of some poor wretch who drains life’s cup too fast.
Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling
About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,
Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,
The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.
“Now” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I leave with God to-morrow’s where and how,
And do concern myself but with the Now,
That little word, though half the future’s length,
Well used, holds twice its meaning and its strength.
Like one blindfolded groping out his way,
I will not try to touch beyond to-day.
Since all the future is concealed from sight
I need but strive to make the next step right.
That done, the next, and so on, till I find
Perchance some day I am no longer blind,
And looking up, behold a radiant Friend
Who says, “Rest, now, for you have reached the end.”
“You and To-Day” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
With every rising of the sun
Think of your life as just begun.
The past has shrived and buried deep
All yesterdays—there let them sleep,
Nor seek to summon back one ghost
Of that innumerable host.
Concern yourself with but to-day;
Woo it and teach it to obey
Your wish and will. Since time began
To-day has been the friend of man.
But in his blindness and his sorrow
He looks to yesterday and to-morrow.
You and to-day! a soul sublime
And the great pregnant hour of time.
With God between to bind the train,
Go forth, I say—attain—attain.
“Attainment” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss
The purpose of this life, and do not wait
For circumstance to mould or change your fate;
In your own self lies Destiny. Let this
Vast truth cast out all fear, all prejudice,
All hesitation. Know that you are great,
Great with divinity. So dominate
Environment, and enter into bliss.
Love largely and hate nothing. Hold no aim
That does not chord with universal good.
Hear what the voices of the Silence say—
All joys are yours if you put forth your claim.
Once let the spiritual laws be understood,
Material things must answer and obey.
“Smiles” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Smile a little, smile a little,
As you go along,
Not alone when life is pleasant,
But when things go wrong.
Care delights to see you frowning,
Loves to hear you sigh;
Turn a smiling face upon her—
Quick the dame will fly.
Smile a little, smile a little,
All along the road;
Every life must have its burden,
Every heart its load.
Why sit down in gloom and darkness
With your grief to sup?
As you drink Fate’s bitter tonic,
Smile across the cup.
Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
Whom you pass and meet;
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms
Oft for weary feet.
Do not make the way seem harder
By a sullen face;
Smile a little, smile a little,
Brighten up the place.
Smile upon your undone labour;
Not for one who grieves
O’er his task waits wealth or glory;
He who smiles achieves.
Though you meet with loss and sorrow
In the passing years,
Smile a little, smile a little,
Even through your tears.
“Will” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
You will be what you will to be;
Let failure find its false content
In that poor word “environment,”
But spirit scorns it, and is free.
It masters time, it conquers space,
It cowes that boastful trickster Chance,
And bids the tyrant Circumstance
Uncrown and fill a servant’s place.
The human Will, that force unseen,
The offspring of a deathless Soul,
Can hew the way to any goal,
Though walls of granite intervene.
Be not impatient in delay,
But wait as one who understands;
When spirit rises and commands,
The gods are ready to obey.
The river seeking for the sea
Confronts the dam and precipice,
Yet knows it cannot fail or miss;
You will be what you will to be!
“Morning Prayer” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Let me to-day do something that shall take
A little sadness from the world’s vast store,
And may I be so favoured as to make
Of joy’s too scanty sum a little more
Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed
Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend;
Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need,
Or sin by silence when I should defend.
However meagre be my worldly wealth,
Let me give something that shall aid my kind—
A word of courage, or a thought of health,
Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find.
Let me to-night look back across the span
’Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience say—
Because of some good act to beast or man—
“The world is better that I lived to-day.”
“O Me! O Life!” by Walt Whitman
O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless – of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light – of the objects mean – of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all – of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest – with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring – What good amid these, O me, O life?
That you are here – that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
“Cheerfulness Taught By Reason” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I think we are too ready with complaint
In this fair world of God’s. Had we no hope
Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope
Of yon gray blank of sky, we might grow faint
To muse upon eternity’s constraint
Round our aspirant souls; but since the scope
Must widen early, is it well to droop,
For a few days consumed in loss and taint?
O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted
And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road
Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread
Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod
To meet the flints? At least it may be said
‘Because the way is short, I thank thee, God.’
“Courage” by Margaret Steele Anderson
I thank thee, Life, that though I be
This poor and broken thing to see,
I still can look with pure delight
Upon thy rose, the red, the white.
And though so dark my own demesne,
My neighbor’s fields so fair and green,
I thank thee that my soul and I
Can fare along that grass and sky.
Yet am I weak! Ere I be done.
Give me one spot that takes the sun!
Give me, ere I uncaring rest.
One rose, to wear it on my breast!
“Patience Taught By Nature” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
‘O dreary life,’ we cry, ‘O dreary life!’
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds
Serenely live while we are keeping strife
With Heaven’s true purpose in us, as a knife
Against which we may struggle! Ocean girds
Unslackened the dry land, savannah-swards
Unweary sweep, hills watch unworn, and rife
Meek leaves drop yearly from the forest-trees
To show, above, the unwasted stars that pass
In their old glory: O thou God of old,
Grant me some smaller grace than comes to these!
But so much patience as a blade of grass
Grows by, contented through the heat and cold.
“To The Young Artist, Kayser Of Kayserwerth” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Kayser! to whom, as to a second self,
Nature, or Nature’s next- of-kin, the Elf,
Hight Genius, hath dispensed the happy skill
To cheer or soothe the parting friend’s, alas!
Turning the blank scroll to a magic glass,
That makes the absent present at our will;
And to the shadowing of thy pencil gives
Such seeming substance, that it almost lives.
Well hast thou given the thoughtful Poet’s face!
Yet hast thou on the tablet of his mind
A more delightful portrait left behind
Ev’n thy own youthful beauty, and artless grace,
Thy natural gladness and eyes bright with glee!
Be wise! be happy! and forget not me.
“Life” by Anna Letitia Barbauld
Life! I know not what thou art,
But I know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me’s a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that there remains of me.
Oh whither, whither dost thou fly,
Where bend unseen thy trackless course?
And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell me where I must seek this compound, I!
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame
From whence thy essence came,
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter’s base encumbering weed?
Or dost thou, hid from sight,
Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour,
To break thy lance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?
Oh, say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?
Life! we’ve been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
‘Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning.
“Confidence” by Anne Brontë
Oppressed with sin and woe,
A burdened heart I bear,
Opposed by many a mighty foe;
But I will not despair.
With this polluted heart,
I dare to come to Thee,
Holy and mighty as Thou art,
For Thou wilt pardon me.
I feel that I am weak,
And prone to every sin;
But Thou who giv’st to those who seek,
Wilt give me strength within.
Far as this earth may be
From yonder starry skies;
Remoter still am I from Thee:
Yet Thou wilt not despise.
I need not fear my foes,
I deed not yield to care;
I need not sink beneath my woes,
For Thou wilt answer prayer.
In my Redeemer’s name,
I give myself to Thee;
And, all unworthy as I am,
My God will cherish me.
“Strong Moments” by William Henry Davies
Sometimes I hear fine ladies sing,
Sometimes I smoke and drink with men;
Sometimes I play at games of cards,
Judge me to be no strong man then.
The strongest moment of my life
Is when I think about the poor;
When, like a spring that rain has fed,
My pity rises more and more.
The flower that loves the warmth and light,
Has all its mornings bathed in dew;
My heart has moments wet with tears,
My weakness is they are so few.
“The Strength of the Lonely” by Vachel Lindsay
The moon’s a monk, unmated,
Who walks his cell, the sky.
His strength is that of heaven-vowed men
Who all life’s flames defy.
They turn to stars or shadows,
They go like snow or dew –
Leaving behind no sorrow –
Only the arching blue.
“Strength” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Who is the strong? Not he who puts to test
His sinews with the strong and proves the best;
But he who dwells where weaklings congregate,
And never lets his splendid strength abate.
Who is the good? Not he who walks each day
With moral men along the high, clean way;
But he who jostles gilded sin and shame,
Yet will not sell his honour or his name.
Who is the wise? Not he who from the start
With Wisdom’s followers has taken part;
But he who looks in Folly’s tempting eyes,
And turns away, perceiving her disguise.
Who is serene? Not he who flees his kind,
Some mountain fastness, or some cave to find;
But he who in the city’s noisiest scene,
Keeps calm within – he only is serene.
“Trust” by John Greenleaf Whittier
The same old baffling questions! O my friend,
I cannot answer them. In vain I send
My soul into the dark, where never burn
The lamps of science, nor the natural light
Of Reason’s sun and stars! I cannot learn
Their great and solemn meanings, nor discern
The awful secrets of the eyes which turn
Evermore on us through the day and night
With silent challenge and a dumb demand,
Proffering the riddles of the dread unknown,
Like the calm Sphinxes, with their eyes of stone,
Questioning the centuries from their veils of sand!
I have no answer for myself or thee,
Save that I learned beside my mother’s knee;
“All is of God that is, and is to be;
And God is good.” Let this suffice us still,
Resting in childlike trust upon His will
Who moves to His great ends unthwarted by the ill.
“Be Strong” by Maltbie Davenport Babcock
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle—face it! ’tis God’s
Say not, “The days are evil. Who’s to blame?”
And fold the hands and acquiesce—oh shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God’s name.
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not—fight on! To-morrow comes the song.
“Resolve” by Charlotte Perkins Stetson
To keep my health!
To do my work!
To see to it I grow and gain and give!
Never to look behind me for an hour!
To wait in weakness, and to walk in power;
But always fronting onward toward the light,
Always and always facing towards the right.
Robbed, starved, defeated, fallen, wide astray—
On, with what strength I have!
Back to the way!
“Opportunity” by John James Ingalls
“Master of human destinies am I!
Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait.
Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and passing by
Hovel and mart and palace—soon or late—
I knock unbidden once at every gate!
“If sleeping, wake—if feasting, rise before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate,
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe,
Seek me in vain and uselessly implore.
I answer not, and I return no more.”
“The Inevitable” by Sarah Knowles Bolton
I like the man who faces what he must
With step triumphant and a heart of cheer;
Who fights the daily battle without fear;
Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering trust
That God is God—that somehow, true and just
His plans work out for mortals; not a tear
Is shed when fortune, which the world holds dear,
Falls from his grasp—better, with love, a crust
Than living in dishonor; envies not,
Nor loses faith in man; but does his best,
Nor ever murmurs at his humbler lot;
But, with a smile and words of hope, gives zest
To every toiler. He alone is great
Who by a life heroic conquers fate.
“The Obstacle Always Ahead” by Unknown
There’s always a river to cross,
Always an effort to make,
If there’s anything good to win,
Any rich prize to take.
Yonder’s the fruit we crave;
Yonder the charming scene;
But deep and wide, with a troubled tide,
Is the river that lies between.
For, rougher the way that we take,
The stouter the heart and the nerve;
The stones in our path we break,
Nor e’er from our impulse swerve:
For the glory we hope to win
Our labours we count no loss;
“Tis folly to pause and murmur because
Of the river we have to cross.
“One Day at a Time” by Helen Hunt Jackson
One day at a time! That’s all it can be;
No faster than that is the hardest fate,
And days have their limits, however we
Begin them too early and stretch them too late.
One day at a time!
It’s a wholesome rhyme!
Agood one to live by,
A day at a time.
One day at a time! Every heart that aches,
Knowing only too well how long they can seem;
But it’s never to-day which the spirit breaks-
It’s the darkened future, without a gleam.
One day at a time! What joy is at height-
Such joy as the heart can never forget-
And pulses are throbbing with wild delight,
How hard to remember that suns must set.
One day at a time! But a single day,
Whatever its load, whatever its length;
And there’s a bit of precious scripture to say
That, according to each, shall be our strength.
One day at a time! “Tis the whole of life;
All sorrow, all joy are measured therein;
The bound of our purpose, our noblest strife,
The one only countersign sure to win!
One day at a time!
It’s a wholesome rhyme!
A good one to live by,
A day at a time.
“One by One” by Hunter MacCulloch
Years come and go;
Waves form and break;
Ebb follows flow;
Stars sleep and wake-
One by one
From out the dark
Thro’ the dusk they steer
Unto life’s verge,
Then disappear Into the dark,
One by one!
The birthday bell
And the slow, sad dirge
Joins swell to swell;
For life begun,
For the race that’s run,
One by one!
“New Every Morning” by Susan Coolidge
Every day is a fresh beginning,
Every morning is the world made new.
You who are weary of sorrow and sinning,
Here is a beautiful hope for you
A hope for me and a hope for you.
All the past things are past and over,
The tasks are done, and the tears are shed.
Yesterday’s errors let yesterday cover;
Yesterday’s wounds, which smarted and bled,
Are healed with the healing which night has shed.
Yesterday now is a part of forever,
Bound up in a sheaf which God holds tight,
With glad days and sad days and bad days which never
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight,
Their fulness of sunshine or sorrowful night.
Let them go since we cannot revive them,
Cannot undo, and cannot atone;
God in His mercy receive, forgive them;
Only the new days are our own,
To-day is ours and to-day alone.
“The Character of the Happy Warrior” by William Wordsworth
Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be?
—It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward light
That makes the path before him always bright;
Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;
Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes his moral being his prime care;
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature’s highest dower:
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their good receives:
By objects, which might force the soul to abate
Her feeling, rendered more compassionate;
Is placable—because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
—’Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends;
Whence, in a state where men are tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He labours good on good to fix, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows:
—Who, if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means; and there will stand
On honourable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire;
Who comprehends his trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait
For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state;
Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come at all:
Whose powers shed round him in the common strife,
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if he be called upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined
Great issues, good or bad for human kind,
Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired;
And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need:
—He who, though thus endued as with a sense
And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes;
Sweet images! which, wheresoe’er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve;
More brave for this, that he hath much to love:—
‘Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high,
Conspicuous object in a Nation’s eye,
Or left unthought-of in obscurity,—
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not—
Plays, in the many games of life, that one
Where what he most doth value must be won:
Whom neither shape or danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray;
Who, not content that former worth stand fast,
Looks forward, persevering to the last,
From well to better, daily self-surpast:
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth
For ever, and to noble deeds give birth,
Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame,
And leave a dead unprofitable name—
Finds comfort in himself and in his cause;
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws
His breath in confidence of Heaven’s applause:
This is the happy Warrior; this is he
That every man in arms should wish to be.
“I Am Content” by Victor-Marie Hugo
True; I dwell lone,
Upon sea-beaten cape,
Mere raft of stone;
Whence all escape
Save one who shrinks not from the gloom,
And will not take the coward’s leap i’ the tomb.
My bedroom rocks
With breezes; quakes in storms,
When dangling locks
Of seaweed mock the forms
Of straggling clouds that trail o’erhead
Like tresses from disrupted coffin-lead.
Upon the sky
Crape palls are often nailed
With stars. Mine eye
Has scared the gull that sailed
To blacker depths with shrillest scream,
Still fainter, till like voices in a dream.
My days become
More plaintive, wan, and pale,
While o’er the foam
I see, borne by the gale,
Infinity! in kindness sent –
To find me ever saying: “I’m content!”
“I Will Not Despair” by Pamela S. Vining, (J. C. Yule)
I will not despair while thou rulest the storm,
Though the red lightning stream o’er the cloud’s sable-breast,
For I catch through the darkness bright gleams of thy form,
And I know ’tis thy voice lulls the tempest to rest—
The wild tempest to rest:
Nor yet, though the shadows of deepening night,
Hang over my path like the pall of despair;
For one star through the gloom sends its hallowed light,
And I know ’tis thy love smiling tenderly there,
—Ah! tenderly there.
I will not despair, though the fountain that burst
For me in life’s desert be wasted and dry;
For thy love was the fountain that cheered me at first,
And again to its life-giving waters I fly—
O Holiest, fly!
No; I will not despair while thy hand points me on,
Though flowerless and thorny the path where I roam.
For a calm sunlight rests on the far hills beyond,
And I know ’tis the radiance that streams from my home,
—Home, beautiful home!
“Be Still” by Pamela S. Vining, (J. C. Yule)
O throbbing heart, be still!
Canst thou not bear
The heavy dash of Memory’s troubled tide,
Long sternly pent, but broken forth again,
Sweeping all barriers ruthlessly aside,
And leaving desolation in its train
Where all was fair?
Fair, did I say? – Oh yes! –
I’d reared sweet flowers
Of steadfast hope, and quiet, patient trust,
Above the wreck and ruin of my years; –
Had won a plant of beauty from the dust,
Fanned it with breath of prayer, and wet with tears
Of loneliest hours!
O throbbing heart, be still!
That cherished flower –
Faith in thy God – last grown, yet first in worth,
Will spring anew ere long – it is not dead,
‘Tis only beaten to the breast of earth!
Let the storm rage – be calm – ’twill lift its head
Some stiller hour!
“Happiness” by John Frederick Freeman
I have found happiness who looked not for it.
There was a green fresh hedge,
And willows by the river side,
And whistling sedge.
The heaviness I felt was all around.
No joy sang in the wind.
Only dull slow life everywhere,
And in my mind.
Then from the sedge a bird cried; and all changed.
Heaviness turned to mirth:
The willows the stream’s cheek caressed,
The sun the earth.
What was it in the bird’s song worked such change?
The grass was wonderful.
I did not dream such beauty was
In things so dull.
What was it in the bird’s song gave the water
That living, sentient look?
Lent the rare brightness to the hedge?
That sweetness shook
Down on the green path by the running water?
Or the small daisies lit
With light of the white northern stars
In dark skies set?
What was it made the whole world marvellous?
Mere common things were joys.
The cloud running upon the grass,
Children’s faint noise,
The trees that grow straight up and stretch wide arms,
The snow heaped in the skies,
The light falling so simply on all;
My lifted eyes
That all this startling aching beauty saw?
I felt the sharp excess
Of joy like the strong sun at noon–
From “Happiness” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
There are so many little things that make life beautiful.
I can recall another day when I rebelled at life’s monotony.
Everywhere about me was the commonplace; and nothing seemed to happen.
Each day was like its yesterday, and to-morrow gave no promise of change.
My young heart rose rebellious in my breast; and I ran aimlessly into the sunlight -the glowing sunlight of June.
I sent out a dumb cry to Fate, demanding larger joys and more delight.
I ran blindly into a field of blooming clover.
It was breast-high, and billowed about me like rose-red waves of a fragrant sea.
“Happy Days” by Mary Hannay Foott
A fringe of rushes, one green line
Upon a faded plain;
A silver streak of water-shine,
Above, tree-watchers twain.
It was our resting-place awhile,
And still, with backward gaze,
We say: ” ‘Tis many a weary mile,
But there were happy days.”
And shall no ripple break the sand
Upon our farther way?
Or reedy ranks all knee-deep stand?
Or leafy tree-tops sway?
The gold of dawn is surely met
In sunset’s lavish blaze;
And, in horizons hidden yet,
There shall be happy days.
“Faith” by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Doubt no longer that the Highest is the wisest and the best,
Let not all that saddens Nature blight thy hope or break thy rest,
Quail not at the fiery mountain, at the shipwreck, or the rolling
Thunder, or the rending earthquake, or the famine, or the pest!
Neither mourn if human creeds be lower than the heart’s desire!
Thro’ the gates that bar the distance comes a gleam of what is higher.
Wait till Death has flung them open, when the man will make the Maker
Dark no more with human hatreds in the glare of deathless fire!
“Assurances” by Walt Whitman
I need no assurances–I am a man who is preoccupied, of his own Soul;
I do not doubt that from under the feet, and beside the hands and face I am cognizant of, are now looking faces I am not cognizant of–calm and actual faces;
I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the world are latent in any iota of the world;
I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes are limitless– in vain I try to think how limitless;
I do not doubt that the orbs, and the systems of orbs, play their swift sports through the air on purpose–and that I shall one day be eligible to do as much as they, and more than they;
I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on, millions of years;
I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and exteriors have their exteriors–and that the eye-sight has another eye-sight, and the hearing another hearing, and the voice another voice;
I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of young men are provided for–and that the deaths of young women, and the deaths of little children, are provided for;
(Did you think Life was so well provided for–and Death, the purport of all Life, is not well provided for?)
I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of them–no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points;
I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen, any where, at any time, is provided for, in the inherences of things;
I do not think Life provides for all, and for Time and Space–but I believe Heavenly Death provides for all.
“Begin The Day” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Begin each morning with a talk to God,
And ask for your divine inheritance
Of usefulness, contentment, and success.
Resign all fear, all doubt, and all despair.
The stars doubt not, and they are undismayed,
Though whirled through space for countless centuries,
And told not why or wherefore: and the sea
With everlasting ebb and flow obeys,
And leaves the purpose with the unseen Cause.
The star sheds radiance on a million worlds,
The sea is prodigal with waves, and yet
No lustre from the star is lost, and not
One drop is missing from the ocean tides.
Oh! brother to the star and sea, know all
God’s opulence is held in trust for those
Who wait serenely and who work in faith.
“Better Things!” by George McDonald
Better to smell the violet cool than sip
the glowing wine;
Better to hark a hidden brook than watch a
Better the love of a gentle heart than beauty’s
Better the rose’s living seed than roses in a
Better to love in loneliness than to bask in
love all day;
Better the fountain in the heart than the foun-
tain by the way.
Better be fed by mother’s hand than eat alone
Better to trust in good than say,
My goods my storehouse fill.”
Better to be a little wise than in knowledge
Better to teach a child than toil to fill perfec-
Better to sit at a master’s feet than thrill a
Better to suspect that thou art proud than be
sure that thou art great.
Better to walk in the real unseen than watch
the hour’s event;
better the “Well done!” at the last than the
air with shouting rent.
Better to have a quiet grief than a hurrying
Better the twllight of the dawn than the noon
day burning bright.
Better a death when work is done than earth’s
most favored birth;
Better a child in God’s great house than the
king of all the earth.
“We Must Believe” by James Whitcomb Riley
We must believe–
Being from birth endowed with love and trust–
Born unto loving;–and how simply just
That love–that faith!–even in the blossom-face
The babe drops dreamward in its resting-place,
Intuitively conscious of the sure
Awakening to rapture ever pure
And sweet and saintly as the mother’s own,
Or the awed father’s, as his arms are thrown
O’er wife and child, to round about them weave
And wind and bind them as one harvest-sheaf
Of love–to cleave to, and forever cleave….
Lord, I believe:
Help Thou mine unbelief.
We must believe–
Impelled since infancy to seek some clear
Fulfillment, still withheld all seekers here;–
For never have we seen perfection nor
The glory we are ever seeking for:
But we have seen–all mortal souls as one–
Have seen its promise, in the morning sun–
Its blest assurance, in the stars of night;–
The ever-dawning of the dark to light;–
The tears down-falling from all eyes that grieve–
The eyes uplifting from all deeps of grief,
Yearning for what at last we shall receive….
Lord, I believe:
Help Thou mine unbelief.
We must believe–
For still all unappeased our hunger goes,
From life’s first waking, to its last repose:
The briefest life of any babe, or man
Outwearing even the allotted span,
Is each a life unfinished–incomplete:
For these, then, of th’ outworn, or unworn feet
Denied one toddling step–O there must be
Some fair, green, flowery pathway endlessly
Winding through lands Elysian! Lord, receive
And lead each as Thine Own Child–even the Chief
Of us who didst Immortal life achieve….
Lord, I believe:
Help Thou mine unbelief.
“The Storm” by Alan L. Strang
The rough old Mr. Storm
Is whirling, swirling past
He makes the treetops bow their heads
And trembles at his blast.
He never stops to think
Of the damage he may do,
He’s always rushing in and out
And hitting, batting you.
He pushes big, black clouds
Against the mountain tops;
The rain and hail comes rushing down
In large, round crystal drops.
The storm will soon be over;
See the rainbow in the sky.
The birds will sing on airy wing,
And the bright sun shine on high.
“Let’s Take This World As Some Wide Scene” by Thomas Moore
Let’s take this world as some wide scene.
Thro’ which in frail but buoyant boat,
With skies now dark and now serene,
Together thou and I must float;
Beholding oft on either shore
Bright spots where we should love to stay;
But Time plies swift his flying oar,
And away we speed, away, away.
Should chilling winds and rains come on,
We’ll raise our awning ‘gainst the shower;
Sit closer till the storm is gone,
And, smiling, wait a sunnier hour.
And if that sunnier hour should shine,
We’ll know its brightness cannot stay,
But happy while ’tis thine and mine,
Complain not when it fades away.
So shall we reach at last that Fall
Down which life’s currents all must go,–
The dark, the brilliant, destined all
To sink into the void below.
Nor even that hour shall want its charms,
If, side by side, still fond we keep,
And calmly, in each other’s arms
Together linked, go down the steep.
“Let Us Give Thanks” by Hattie Howard
If we have lived another year
And, counting friends by regiments
Who share our love and confidence,
Find no more broken ranks,
For this let us give thanks.
If, since the last Thanksgiving-time,
Have we been blessed with strength and health,
And added to our honest wealth,
Nor lost by broken banks,
For this would we give thanks.
If through adversity we trod,
Yet with serene and smiling face,
And trusted more to saving grace
Than charlatans and cranks,
For this let us give thanks.
If we have somehow worried through
The ups and downs along life’s track,
And still undaunted can look back
And smile at Fortune’s pranks,
For this would we give thanks.
If every page in our account
With God and man is fairly writ,
We care not who examines it,
With no suspicious blanks,
For this let us give thanks.
“Go, Now, And Dream. (Sicilian Air.)” by Thomas Moore
Go, now, and dream o’er that joy in thy slumber–
Moments so sweet again ne’er shalt thou number.
Of Pain’s bitter draught the flavor ne’er flies,
While Pleasure’s scarce touches the lip ere it dies.
Go, then, and dream, etc.
That moon, which hung o’er your parting, so splendid,
Often will shine again, bright as she then did–
But, never more will the beam she saw burn
In those happy eyes, at your meeting, return.
Go, then, and dream, etc.
“Give” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Live, and thou shalt receive. Give thoughts of cheer,
Of courage and success, to friend and stranger.
And from a thousand sources, far and near,
Strength will be sent thee in thy hour of danger.
Give words of comfort, of defence, and hope,
To mortals crushed by sorrow and by error.
And though thy feet through shadowy paths may grope,
Thou shalt not walk in loneliness or terror.
Give of thy gold, though small thy portion be.
Gold rusts and shrivels in the hand that keeps it.
It grows in one that opens wide and free.
Who sows his harvest is the one who reaps it.
Give of thy love, nor wait to know the worth
Of what thou lovest; and ask no returning.
And wheresoe’er thy pathway leads on earth,
There thou shalt find the lamp of love-light burning.
“Joy Speaks” by Madison Julius Cawein
One with the Heaven above
Am I its bliss:
Part of its truth and love,
And what God is.
I heal the soul and mind:
I work their cures:
Not Grief, that rends Mankind,
But Joy endures.
“Joy And Peace In Believing” by William Cowper
Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises
With healing on His wings;
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.
In holy contemplation
We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God’s salvation,
And find it ever new;
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
E’en let the unknown to-morrow
Bring with it what it may!
It can bring with it nothing,
But He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing,
Will clothe His people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
No creature but is fed;
And He who feeds the ravens
Will give His children bread.
Though vine nor fig tree neither
Their wonted fruit shall bear,
Though all the field should wither,
Nor flocks nor herds be there:
Yet God the same abiding,
His praise shall tune my voice;
For, while in Him confiding,
I cannot but rejoice.
Poems About Attitude for Girls
In a world that constantly tries to define who they should be, this collection of attitude poems celebrates the fierce spirit and unwavering strength of young women.
With empowering verses that celebrate individuality and challenge societal norms, these poems provide a captivating journey through the intricacies of a girl’s inner strength.
“I Am” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I know not whence I came,
I know not whither I go;
But the fact stands clear that I am here
In this world of pleasure and woe.
And out of the mist and murk
Another truth shines plain—
It is my power each day and hour
To add to its joy or its pain.
I know that the earth exists,
It is none of my business why;
I cannot find out what it’s all about,
I would but waste time to try.
My life is a brief, brief thing,
I am here for a little space,
And while I stay I would like, if I may,
To brighten and better the place.
The trouble, I think, with us all
Is the lack of a high conceit.
If each man thought he was sent to this spot
To make it a bit more sweet,
How soon we could gladden the world,
How easily right all wrong,
If nobody shirked, and each one worked
To help his fellows along!
Cease wondering why you came—
Stop looking for faults and flaws;
Rise up to-day in your pride and say,
“I am part of the First Great Cause!
However full the world,
There is room for an earnest man.
It had need of me, or I would not be—
I am here to strengthen the plan.”
“Womanhood” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
She must be honest, both in thought and deed,
Of generous impulse, and above all greed;
Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf,
But life’s best blessings for her higher self,
Which means the best for all.
She must have faith,
To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death,
And understand their message.
She should be
As redolent with tender sympathy
As is a rose with fragrance.
Should be her mantle, even though her dress
May be of Sorrow’s weaving.
On her face
A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace,
And chastity is in her atmosphere.
Not that chill chastity which seems austere
(Like untrod snow-peaks, lovely to behold
Till once attained—then barren, loveless, cold);
But the white flame that feeds upon the soul
And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal.
A sense of humour, and a touch of mirth,
To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth;
And pride that passes evil—choosing good.
All these unite in perfect womanhood.
“Unconquered” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
However skilled and strong art thou, my foe,
However fierce is thy relentless hate,
Though firm thy hand, and strong thy aim, and straight
Thy poisoned arrow leaves the bended bow,
To pierce the target of my heart, ah! know
I am the master yet of my own fate.
Thou canst not rob me of my best estate,
Though fortune, fame, and friends, yea, love shall go.
Not to the dust shall my true self be hurled,
Nor shall I meet thy worst assaults dismayed;
When all things in the balance are well weighed,
There is but one great danger in the world—
Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill,
That is the only evil that can kill.
“Silence” by Helen Francesca Bantock
Why am I silent? Ask yon pool poised still,
Above the foaming rapid’s hurrying noise.
Ask of yon flower that yet without a voice
Praises the light whereby its petals thrill
To their pale beauty. Fate’s, not mine, the will
Which holds me dumb, without a right of choice.
Yet, like the blossom, does my soul rejoice,
Of yonder bounteous heaven drinking its fill;
And, like the wave, stillest when tides are strong,
Pauses to gather strength before its fall
To meet the racing eddies lashed beneath.
Only within, my cry goes up, ‘How long
Ere to the summons of life’s bugle-call
Fate draws my spirit like a sword from sheath?
“Ambition” by Helen Francesca Bantock
Leave me, in mercy leave me, get you gone!
Your white face hinders, I must work straight on.
Why still delaying? Hush! your ‘Never more’
Is nothing to me, —go, shut close my door.
At last! Life plumes herself for splendid flight,
Fame dazzles me. Ah, light, and yet more light!
Large breath of liberty I drink like wine;
All’s gained! I am a god! I am divine!
And this the end I strove for, these, the bays!
Thorns that bite deep the brow, barbed with world
While o’er the heart, for ever moans a sea
Of inextinguishable memory.
From “Properzia Rossi” by Felicia Hemans
One dream of passion and of beauty more!
And in its bright fulfilment let me pour
My soul away! Let earth retain a trace
Of that which lit my being, though its race
Might have been loftier far. Yet one more dream!
From my deep spirit one victorious gleam
Ere I depart! For thee alone, for thee!
May this last work, this farewell triumph be—
Thou, loved so vainly! I would leave enshrined
Something immortal of my heart and mind,
That yet may speak to thee when I am gone,
Shaking thine inmost bosom with a tone
Of lost affection,—something that may prove
What she hath been, whose melancholy love
On thee was lavish’d; silent pang and tear,
And fervent song that gush’d when none were
And dream by night, and weary thought by day,
Stealing the brightness from her life away
While thou—Awake! not yet within me die!
Under the burden and the agony
Of this vain tenderness—my spirit, wake!
From “Arabella Stuart” by Felicia Hemans
Now never more, oh! never, in the worth
Of its pure cause, let sorrowing love on earth
Trust fondly-never more! The hope is crush’d
That lit my life, the voice within me hush’d
That spoke sweet oracles; and I return
To lay my youth, as in a burial urn,
Where sunshine may not find it. All is lost!
No tempest met our barks-no billow toss’d;
Yet were they sever’d, even as we must be,
That so have loved, so striven our hearts to free
From their close-coiling fate! In vain—in vain!
The dark links meet, and clasp themselves again,
And press out life. Upon the deck I stood,
And a white sail came gliding o’er the flood,
Like some proud bird of ocean; then mine eye
Strain’d out, one moment earlier to descry
The form it ached for, and the bark’s career
Seem’d slow to that fond yearning: it drew near,
Fraught with our foes! What boots it to recall
The strife, the tears? Once more a prison wall
Shuts the green hills andwoodlands frommysight,
And joyous glance of waters to the light,
And thee, my Seymour!—thee!
I will not sink!
Thou, thou hast rent the heavy chain that bound
And this shall be my strength-the joy to think
That thou may’st wander with heaven’s breath
And all the laughing sky! This thought shall yet
Shine o’er my heart a radiant amulet,
Guarding it from despair. Thy bonds are broken;
And unto me, I know, thy true love’s token
Shall one day be deliverance, though the years
Lie dim between, o’er hung with mists oft ears.
“Democracy” by Alice Duer Miller
Democracy is this—to hold
That all who wander down the pike
In cart or car, on foot or bike,
Or male or female, young or old,
Are much alike—are much alike.
“The Modern Woman to Her Lover” by Margaret Widdemer
I shall not lie to you any more,
Flatter or fawn to attain my end—
I am what never has been before,
I shall be strong as a man is strong,
I shall be fair as a man is fair,
Hand in locked hand we shall pass along
To a purer air:
I shall not drag at your bridle-rein,
Knee pressed to knee shall we ride the hill;
I shall not lie to you ever again—
Will you love me still?
“Women of To-day” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
You women of today who fear so much
The women of the future, showing how
The dangers of her course are such and such–
What are you now?
Mothers and Wives and Housekeepers, forsooth!
Great names, you cry, full scope to rule and please,
Room for wise age and energetic youth!–
But are you these?
Housekeepers? Do you then, like those of yore,
Keep house with power and pride, with grace and ease?
No, you keep servants only! What is more–
You don’t keep these!
Wives, say you? Wives! Blessed indeed are they
Who hold of love the everlasting keys,
Keeping your husbands’ hearts! Alas the day!
You don’t keep these!
And mothers? Pitying Heaven! Mark the cry
From cradle death-beds! Mothers on their knees!
Why, half the children born, as children, die!
You don’t keep these!
And still the wailing babies come and go,
And homes are waste, and husband’s hearts fly far;
There is no hope until you dare to know
The thing you are!
“Lady Montrevor” by Christina Rossetti
I do not look for love that is a dream—
I only seek for courage to be still;
To bear my grief with an unbending will,
And when I am a-weary not to seem.
Let the round world roll on; let the sun beam;
Let the wind blow, and let the rivers fill
The everlasting sea, and on the hill
The palms almost touch heaven, as children deem.
And, though young spring and summer pass away,
And autumn and cold winter come again,
And though my soul, being tired of its pain,
Pass from the ancient earth, and though my clay
Return to dust, my tongue shall not complain;—
No man shall mock me after this my day.
“The Answer” by Sara Teasdale
When I go back to earth
And all my joyous body
Puts off the red and white
That once had been so proud,
If men should pass above
With false and feeble pity,
My dust will find a voice
To answer them aloud:
“Be still, I am content,
Take back your poor compassion,
Joy was a flame in me
Too steady to destroy;
Lithe as a bending reed
Loving the storm that sways her—
I found more joy in sorrow
Than you could find in joy.”
“The Heart of a Woman” by Georgia Douglas Johnson
The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn,
As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on,
Afar o’er life’s turrets and vales does it roam
In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home.
The heart of a woman falls back with the night,
And enters some alien cage in its plight,
And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars
While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.
“Work” by Emma Lazarus
Yet life is not a vision nor a prayer,
But stubborn work; she may not shun her task.
After the first compassion, none will spare
Her portion and her work achieved, to ask.
She pleads for respite,—she will come ere long
When, resting by the roadside, she is strong.
Nay, for the hurrying throng of passers-by
Will crush her with their onward-rolling stream.
Much must be done before the brief light die;
She may not loiter, rapt in the vain dream.
With unused trembling hands, and faltering feet,
She staggers forth, her lot assigned to meet.
But when she fills her days with duties done,
Strange vigor comes, she is restored to health.
New aims, new interests rise with each new sun,
And life still holds for her unbounded wealth.
All that seemed hard and toilsome now proves small,
And naught may daunt her,—she hath strength for all.
“The Virtue Of Woman” by Friedrich Schiller
Man of virtue has need;-into life with boldness he plunges,
Entering with fortune more sure into the hazardous strife;
But to woman one virtue suffices; it is ever shining
Lovingly forth to the heart; so let it shine to the eye!
“I Am The World” by Dora Sigerson Shorter
I am the song, that rests upon the cloud;
I am the sun:
I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud,
When dusk is done.
I am the changing colours of the tree;
The flower uncurled:
I am the melancholy of the sea;
I am the world.
The other souls that, passing in their place,
Each in their groove;
Out-stretching hands that chain me and embrace,
Speak and reprove.
“O atom of that law, by which the earth
Is poised and whirled;
Behold! you hurrying with the crowd assert
You are the world.”
Am I not one with all the things that be
Warm in the sun?
All that my ears can hear, or eyes can see,
Till all be done.
Of song and shine, of changing leaf apart,
Of bud uncurled:
With all the senses pulsing at my heart,
I am the world.
One day the song that drifts upon the wind,
I shall not hear;
Nor shall the rosy shoots to eyes grown blind
Deaf, in the dark, I shall arise and throw
From off my soul,
The withered world with all its joy and woe,
That was my goal.
I shall arise, and like a shooting star
Slip from my place;
So lingering see the old world from afar
Revolve in space.
And know more things than all the wise may know
Till all be done;
Till One shall come who, breathing on the stars,
Blows out the sun.
“I Will Arise” by Christina G. Rossetti
Weary and weak,–accept my weariness;
Weary and weak and downcast in my soul,
With hope growing less and less,
And with the goal
Distant and dim,–accept my sore distress.
I thought to reach the goal so long ago,
At outset of the race I dreamed of rest,
Not knowing what now I know
Of breathless haste,
Of long-drawn straining effort across the waste.
One only thing I knew, Thy love of me;
One only thing I know, Thy sacred same
Love of me full and free,
A craving flame
Of selfless love of me which burns in Thee.
How can I think of thee, and yet grow chill;
Of Thee, and yet grow cold and nigh to death?
Re-energize my will,
Rebuild my faith;
I will arise and run, Thou giving me breath.
I will arise, repenting and in pain;
I will arise, and smite upon my breast
And turn to Thee again;
Thou choosest best,
Lead me along the road Thou makest plain.
Lead me a little way, and carry me
A little way, and listen to my sighs,
And store my tears with Thee,
And deign replies
To feeble prayers;–O Lord, I will arise.
“I Will Be Worthy Of It” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I may not reach the heights I seek,
My untried strength may fail me;
Or, halfway up the mountain peak
Fierce tempests may assail me.
But though that place I never gain,
Herein lies the comfort for my pain –
I will be worthy of it.
I may not triumph in success,
Despite my earnest labour;
I may not grasp results that bless
The efforts of my neighbour.
But though my goal I never see,
This thought shall always dwell with me –
I will be worthy of it.
The golden glory of Love’s light
May never fall on my way;
My path may always lead through night,
Like some deserted by-way.
But though life’s dearest joy I miss,
There lies a nameless strength in this –
I will be worthy of it.
“Aspiration” by Joseph Horatio Chant
I stand to-day on higher ground
Than ever reached before,
Yet from this summit I have found,
Outlined full many more,
Which seem to pierce the vaulted sky,
And prove my effort vain
But God will set my feet on high,
Thro’ grace I shall attain.
Yet higher still my ideal stands,
Its peak but dimly seen,
But hope impels, and love commands,
And faith discerns its sheen;
And when I reach its shining height
Heaven’s gate will open wide;
I’ll see the beatific sight,
And rest at Jesus’ side.
“Beauty Fades” by William Drummond
Trust not, sweet soul, those curled waves of gold
With gentle tides that on your temples flow,
Nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow,
Nor snow of cheeks with Tyrian grain enroll’d .
Trust not those shining lights which wrought my woe
When first I did their azure rays behold,
Nor voice, whose sounds more strange effects do show
Than of the Thracian harper have been told.
Look to this dying lily, fading rose,
Dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beams
Made all the neighboring herbs and grass rejoice,
And think how little is ‘twixt life’s extremes;
The cruel tyrant that did kill those flowers
Shall once, ah, me! not spare that spring of yours.
“I Cannot Change, As Others Do” by John Wilmot
I cannot change, as others do,
Though you unjustly scorn;
Since that poor swain that sighs for you,
For you alone was born.
No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move
A surer way I’ll try:
And to revenge my slighted love,
Will still love on, will still love on, and die.
When, killed with grief, Amintas lies
And you to mind shall call,
The sighs that now unpitied rise,
The tears that vainly fall,
That welcome hour that ends this smart
Will then begin your pain;
For such a faithful tender heart
Can never break, can never break in vain.
“My Soul Is Awakened” by Anne Brontë
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring,
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For, above, and around me, the wild wind is roaring
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.
The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing,
The bare trees are tossing their branches on high;
The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing,
The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky.
I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray,
I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing
And hear the wild roar of their thunder today!
“We Outgrow Love Like Other Things” by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
We outgrow love like other things
And put it in the drawer,
Till it an antique fashion shows
Like costumes grandsires wore.