Beatrice.

Vision of light, above triumphal car
Vision of guidance, star of ev'ry star
And throned saint within the great white Rose,
I follow thee: the book at last to close,
And see again, while sun and stars grow less,
A little girl, in little crimson dress!

Margaret Steele Anderson

Margaret Steele Anderson was an American poet and author, born on October 8, 1867. She is known for her lyrical and expressive poetry, which often explores themes of nature, emotion, and personal reflection. Anderson's works include several published collections of poetry and prose that garnered critical acclaim during her lifetime. Though not as widely recognized today, her contributions to American literature remain significant. She passed away on October 7, 1921.

Margaret Steele Anderson

To The Fighting Weak.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

A Stage-Figure.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Night-Watches.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Prayer Of The Weak.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Hawthorne.

Child, lover, servant, master of Romance,
To you she showed, not splendid of attire,
With gaud and grace, but all to your desire
In lonelier hues of solemn radiance!
Long years you followed her, and at her glance,
As at some word, divinely sweet or dire,
Beheld the souls of men, in shapes of fire,
Through veiling flesh look out to her askance.

You saw the brand upon unbranded breast;
From evil heart you saw the witches wind;
You saw dark passion breed in frolic youth;
And yet, with sight all delicate and blest,
You knew the primrose of a maiden's mind,
You took of shame the grave white flower of truth!

Margaret Steele Anderson

Beatrice

(FOR THE BEATRICE CELEBRATION, 1890)

Nine mystic revolutions of the spheres
Since Dante's birth, and lo! a star new-born
Shining in heaven: and like a lark at morn
Springing to meet it, straight in all men's ears,
A strange new song, which through the listening years
Grew deep as lonely sobbing from the thorn
Rising at eve, shot through with bitter scorn,
Full-throated with the ecstasy of tears.

Long since that star arose, that song upsprang,
That shine and sing in heaven above us yet;
Since thy white childhood, glorious Beatrice,
Dawned like a blessed angel upon his:
Thy star it was that did his song beget,
Star shining for us still because he sang.

Richard Le Gallienne

The Madonna Of The Veil.

Light through a little veil is all thy trace
    Of halo, blessed Child!
The sorrow of the world is in thy face,
    fair, undefiled!
    dear and undefiled!

The kneeling boy, with pretty lips apart,
    Half loves, half worships thee;
Baby and sweet, yet separate thou art
    To that simplicity,
    To that young piety!

But Mary's look no hint of anguish stirs;
    Perfect that motherhood;
One day the bitter sword, this day is hers;
    And, God!, how very good!
    gracious God! How good!

Margaret Steele Anderson

The Doubter.

O friendly, that I never knew for friend,
O flame, that never warmed me from the cold,
O light, that never beckoned to an end,
Give me but once thy beauty to behold!

Thou, Faith! Who never held before mine eyes
Or wreath of bay or life's diviner rose,
Lift up thy face against my sombre skies
And let me see thee ere mine eyelids close!

Come, lighten mine as thou dost other ways.
Come, conquer me if only for an hour!
O beckon with that shadowy wreath of bays!
O lift to me that unimagined flow'r!

Margaret Steele Anderson

Courage.

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!

Margaret Steele Anderson

The Violinist.

But that one air for all that throng! And yet
How wondrously the magic strain went through
Those thousand hearts! I saw young eyes, that knew
Only the fairest sights, grow dim and wet,
While eyes long fed on visions of regret
Beheld life's rose, upspringing from its rue;
For some, the night-wind in thy music blew,
For some, the spring's celestial clarinet!

And each heart knew its own : the poet heard.
Ravished, the song his lips could never free;
The girl, her lover's swift, impassioned word;
The mother thought, "O little, buried face!"
And one, through veil of doubt and agony,
Saw Christ, alone in the dim garden-place!

Margaret Steele Anderson