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

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

Odes Of A Boy.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Demeter Of Praxiteles.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Shadow.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

English

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Not This World.

Shall I not give this world my heart, and well?
If for naught else, for many a miracle
Of the impassioned spring, the rose, the snow?
Nay, by the spring that still must come and go
When thou art dust, by roses that shall blow
Across thy grave, and snows it shall not miss.
Not this world, oh, not this!

Shall I not give this world my heart, who find
Within this world the glories of the mind
That wondrous mind that mounts from earth to God?
Nay, hy the little footways it hath trod,
And smiUs to see, when thou art under sod.
And by its very gaze across the ahyss.
Not this world, oh, not this!

Shall I not give this world my heart, who hold
One figure here above myself, my gold.
My life and hope, my joy and my intent?
Nay, by that form whose strengt...

Margaret Steele Anderson

From Sudden Death. . . .

Roses about my way, and roses still!
0, I must pick and have my very fill!
Red for my heart and white upon my hair
And still I shall have roses and to spare!
    My child, I save thee thorns! Dear little friend,
        This is the end!

So long the road, so lone the road and gray,
My bleeding feet must travel many a day!
With not an inn where I may stop and rest,
With not a roof that claims me for its guest!
        Hush! the road vanishes! Yes, yes, poor friend,
            This is the end!

O Lord, let thou thy servant go in peace!
Now I have rounded out life's perfect lease,
Spare me the clouded brain, the dark'ning eye,
Nor let me be a burden ere I die!
        Thou shalt not he! Nay, even now, old friend,
            This ...

Margaret Steele Anderson

The Church.
Still, still thy garden hath its fruits and spices,
My Lord, my Lord!
Still hath its wells and pools of thy devices,
My Lord!
White, in a stranger soil, thy lily stands, the close
Breathes with thy rose!

Wild feet, mad feet, thy lovely paths have beaten,
My Lord, my Lord!
And sinful lips thy holy fruits have eaten,
My Lord!
Strange hands have tended me and tended ill, yet thou
Lovest me, now!

So to thy feet I offer my waste places.
My Lord, my Lord!
walk them till they spring in verdant graces,
My Lord!
With new trees plant, and from the fruits divine
Tread out thy wine!
Margaret Steele Anderson

The Victor.
"Thou hast not lived! No aim of earth
Thy body serves, nor home nor birth;
No children's eyes look up to thee
To solace thy mortality."

"Thou hast not lived! Forbidden seas
Shut thee from Beauty's treasuries;
Not for those hungry eyes of thine
Her marbles gleam, her colors shine."

"Thou hast not lived! Hast never brought
To steadfast form thy hidden thought;
Striving to speak, thou still art mute.
And fain to bear, hast yet no fruit."

So spake the Tempter, at his plot,
But thee, my Soul, he counted not!
Who mad'st me stand, serene and free.
And give him answer dauntlessly:

"Yea, shapes of earth are sweet and near.
And home and child are very dear;
Yet do I live, to be denied
These things, and still be satisfied."
Margaret Steele Anderson

The Trees.
When on the spring's enchanting blue
You trace your slender leaves and few,
Then do I wish myself re-born
To lands of hope, to lands of morn.

And when you wear your rich attire,
Your autumn garments, touched with fire,
I want again that ardent soul
That dared the race and dreamed the goal.

But, oh, when leafless, dark and high,
You rise against this winter sky,
I hear God's word: "Stand still and see
How fair is mine austerity!"
Margaret Steele Anderson

Little Messages Of Joy And Hope
I.

Take Heart

Take heart again. Joy may be lost awhile.
It is not always Spring.
And even now from some far Summer Isle
Hither the birds may wing.

II.

Touchstones

Hearts, that have cheered us ever, night and day,
With words that helped us on the rugged way,
The hard, long road of life to whom is due
More than the heart can ever hope to pay
Are they not touchstones, soul-transmuting true
All thoughts to gold, refining thus the clay?

III.

Fortune

Fortune may pass us by:
Follow her flying feet.
Love, all we ask, deny:
Never admit defeat.
Take heart again and try.
Never say die.

IV

Be Glad

Be glad, just for to-day!
O heart, be glad!
Cast all your car...
Madison Julius Cawein