Place Aux Dames

[To M.]


With brilliant friends surrounding me,
    So cosy at the Club I'm sitting;
While you at home I seem to see,
    Attending strictly to your knitting.

When women have their rights, my dear,
    We'll hear no more of wrongs so shocking: -
You with your friends shall gather here;
    I'll stay at home and darn the stocking!

Arthur Macy

Arthur Macy was an American poet known for his contributions during the 19th century. Born on June 6, 1842, he became widely recognized for his poignant and evocative verses, which often reflected themes of nature and human emotion. His poetry gained considerable respect and admiration during his lifetime. He passed away on June 1, 1904.

Arthur Macy

To M.

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Céleste

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

Disenchantment

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

The Book Hunter

Arthur Macy, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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

At Marliave's

At Marliave's when eventide
Finds rare companions at my side,
    The laughter of each merry guest
    At quaint conceit, or kindly jest,
Makes golden moments swiftly glide.
No voice unkind our faults to chide,
Our smallest virtue magnified;
    And friendly hand to hand is pressed
                        At Marliave's.

I lay my years and cares aside
Accepting what the gods provide,
    I ask not for a lot more blest,
    Nor do I crave a sweeter rest
Than that which comes with eventide
                        At Marliave's.

Arthur Macy

Knitting

At the concert and the play
Everywhere you see them sitting,
Knitting, knitting.
Women who the other day
Thought of nothing but their frocks
Or their jewels or their locks,
Women who have lived for pleasure,
Who have known no work but leisure,
Now are knitting, knitting, knitting
For the soldiers over there.

On the trains and on the ships
With a diligence befitting,
They are knitting.
Some with smiles upon their lips,
Some with manners debonair,
Some with earnest look and air.
But each heart in its own fashion,
Weaves in pity and compassion
In their knitting, knitting, knitting
For the soldiers over there.

Hurried women to and fro
From their homes to labour flitting,
Knitting, knitting,
Busy handed come and go.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Here And There

Sweet Phyllis went a-rambling here and there,
            Here and there.
Her eyes were blue and golden was her hair.
    She said, "Oh, life is strange;
    I'm sure I need a change;
'Tis sad for one to ramble here and there,
            Here and there."

Young Strephon went a-rambling here and there,
            Here and there.
He sighed, "It needs but two to make a pair.
    If I should meet a maid
    Not in the least afraid,
How happy we'd go rambling here and there,
            Here and there."

As youth and maid went rambling here and there,
            Here and there,
They met, and loved at sight, for both were fair;
    And neither youth nor maid
    Was in the least afraid,
And hand in hand they ramble here and there,<...

Arthur Macy

Dinner Favors, To S.

I fill my goblet to the brim
And clink the glasses rim to rim.
Across the board I waft a kiss
With thanks for such an hour as this,
And clasping joy, bid sorrow flee,
And welcome you my vis-à-vis.

Arthur Macy

At Twilight Time

At twilight time when tolls the chime,
    And saddest notes are falling,
A lonely bird with plaintive word
    Across the dusk is calling.
Vain doth it wait for one dear mate,
    That ne'er shall know the morrow;
Then sinks to rest with drooping crest
    In one long dream of sorrow.

Dearest, when night is here,
    To thee I'm calling,
Sadly as tear on tear
    Is slowly falling,
Oh, fold me near, more near -
    In love enthralling!
Here on thy breast,
    While life shall last,
With thee I stay.
    Here will I rest
Till night is past,
    And comes the day!

Arthur Macy

Dinner Favors, To A. R. C.

Of all the joys on earth that be
There is no sweeter one to me
Than sitting with a merry lass
From consommé to demi-tasse.

And yet a golden hour I'd steal,
Reverse the order of the meal,
And countermarching, backward stray
From demi-tasse to consommé.

Arthur Macy