Only A Word.

Till our world, so sad and weary,
    Finds the balmy rest of peace -
Peace to silence all her discords -
    Peace till war and crime shall cease.

Peace to fall like gentle showers,
    Or on parchéd flowers dew,
Till our hearts proclaim with gladness:
    Lo, He maketh all things new.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper was an African American abolitionist, suffragist, poet, teacher, public speaker, and writer. Born free in Baltimore, Maryland, she was one of the first African American women to be published in the United States. She was active in social reform movements and used her poetry and prose to advocate for abolition and women's rights. Her best-known works include the poetry collection "Forest Leaves" and the novel "Iola Leroy."

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

He "Had Not Where To Lay His Head."

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

The Present Age.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Burial Of Sarah.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Thank God For Little Children.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Pidgin

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Songs For The People.

Let me make the songs for the people,
    Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
    Wherever they are sung.

Not for the clashing of sabres,
    For carnage nor for strife;
But songs to thrill the hearts of men
    With more abundant life.

Let me make the songs for the weary,
    Amid life's fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
    And careworn brows forget.

Let me sing for little children,
    Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
    To float o'er life's highway.

I would sing for the poor and aged,
    When shadows dim their sight;
Of the bright and restful mansions,
    Where there shall be no night.

Our world, so worn and weary,
    Needs ...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Home, Sweet Home.

"It shall be a royal mansion,
    A fair and beautiful thing,
It will be the presence-chamber
    Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.

"Thy house shall be bound with pinions
    To mansions of rest above,
But grace shall forge all the fetters
    With the links and cords of love.

"Thou shalt be free in this mansion
    From sorrow and pain of heart,
For the peace of God shall enter,
    And never again depart."


Sharers of a common country,
    They had met in deadly strife;
Men who should have been as brothers
    Madly sought each other's life.

In the silence of the even,
    When the cannon's lips were dumb,
Thoughts of home and all its loved ones
    To the soldier's heart would come.

On the margin of a rive...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Woodburn.

Oh, the brow that has never been shaded by care
The rosewreath of pleasure may smilingly wear,
And the heart that is wholly a stranger to gloom,
'Mid the din of existence may fearlessly bloom;
But the one that is blighted by sadness and pain,
And blighted too rudely to blossom again,
When its hold on a reed-like support is resigned.
Nor peace, nor composure, nor solace can find,
Nor strength to submit to the chastening rod,
Save only in stillness alone with its God!

And oh! if a blissful communion with Heaven
To earth-wearied spirits has ever been given,
If the loved and the distant, the lost and the dead,
Who smiled on our pathway a moment, and fled,
Who darkened our sunshine and saddened our mirth,
To prove that the soul has no home upon earth,
...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

To Frances

Dear love, life has dewy mornings,
    And the shadeless blaze of noon,
Flowers, that we stop to gather,
    That fade from our hands so soon

Dear love, there are meetings, partings,
    We have sunshine, we have shade,
There's no continuing city
    That our human hands have made

We go onward, joy and sorrow
    Checkers all the path we tread,
But our Father loves His children
    And with loving care they're led.

Dear love, His great wisdom chooseth
    The path that we both have trod,
And through storm, and calm, and sunshine,
    We rest in the hand of God

Nora Pembroke

Maceo.

Maceo dead! a thrill of sorrow
    Through our hearts in sadness ran
When we felt in one sad hour
    That the world had lost a man.

He had clasped unto his bosom
    The sad fortunes of his land -
Held the cause for which he perished
    With a firm, unfaltering hand.


On his lips the name of freedom
    Fainted with his latest breath.
Cuba Libre was his watchword
    Passing through the gates of death.

With the light of God around us,
    Why this agony and strife?
With the cross of Christ before us,
    Why this fearful waste of life?

Must the pathway unto freedom
    Ever mark a crimson line,
And the eyes of wayward mortals
    Always close to light divine?

Must the hearts of fearless valor
    Fa...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

A Rallying Cry.

Oh, children of the tropics,
    Amid our pain and wrong
Have you no other mission
    Than music, dance, and song?

When through the weary ages
    Our dripping tears still fall,
Is this a time to dally
    With pleasure's silken thrall?

Go, muffle all your viols;
    As heroes learn to stand,
With faith in God's great justice
    Nerve every heart and hand.

Dream not of ease nor pleasure,
    Nor honor, wealth, nor fame,
Till from the dust you've lifted
    Our long-dishonored name;

And crowned that name with glory
    By deeds of holy worth,
To shine with light emblazoned,
    The noblest name on earth.

Count life a dismal failure,
    Unblessing and unblest,
That seeks 'mid ease inglorious
   ...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper