The Breaking.

(The Lord God speaks to a youth.)

Bend now thy body to the common weight!
(But oh, that vine-clad head, those limbs of morn!
Those proud young shoulders I myself made straight!
How shall ye wear the yoke that must be worn?)

Look thou, my son, what wisdom comes to thee!
(But oh, that singing mouth, those radiant eyes!
Those dancing feet, that I myself made free!
How shall I sadden them to make them wise?)

Nay then, thou shalt! Resist not, have a care!
(Yea, I must work my plans who sovereign sit!
Yet do not tremble so! I cannot bear
Though I am God! to see thee so submit!)

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

The Italian Renaissance.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

Where There Is No Vision The People Perish.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Doubter.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Angel And The Child.

Margaret Steele Anderson, 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.

The Prayer Of The Weak.

Lord of all strength, behold, I am but frail!
Lord of all harvest, few the grapes and pale
Allotted for my wine-press! Thou, Lord,
Who boldest in thy gift the tempered sword.
Hast armed me with a sapling! Lest I die,
Then hear my prayer, make answer to my cry:

Grant me, I pray, to tread my grapes as one
Who hath full vineyards, teeming in the sun;
Let me dream valiantly; and undismayed
Let me lift up my sapling like a blade;
Then, Lord, thy cup for mine abundant wine,
Thy foeman. Lord, for that white steel of mine!

Margaret Steele Anderson

The Vision Of Dry Bones.

EZEKIEL XXXVII.


The Spirit of God with resistless control,
Like a sunbeam, illumined the depths of my soul,
And visions prophetical burst on my sight,
As he carried me forth in the power of his might.
Around me I saw in a desolate heap
The relics of those who had slept their death-sleep,
In the midst of the valley, all reckless and bare,
Like the hope of my country, lie withering there,--

"Son of man! can these dry bones, long bleached in decay,
Ever feel in their flesh the warm beams of the day;
Can the spirit of life ever enter again
The perishing heaps that now whiten the plain?"
"Lord, thou knowest alone, who their being first gave:
Thy power may be felt in the depths of the grave;
The hand that created again may impart
The rich tide of f...

Susanna Moodie

Habit.

So, then! Wilt use me as a garment? Well,
'Tis man's high impudence to think he may;

But I, who am as old as heav'n and hell,
I am not lightly to be east away.

Wilt run a race? Then I will run with thee,
And stay thy steps or speed thee to the goal;

Wilt dare a fight? Then, of a certainty,
I'll aid thy foeman, or sustain thy soul.

Lo, at thy marriage-feast, upon one hand.
Face of thy bride, and on the other, mine!

Lo, at thy couch of sickness close I stand.
And taint the cup, or make it more benign.

Yea, hark! the very son thou hast begot

One day doth give thee certain sign and cry;

Hold thou thy peace, frighted or frighted not;
That look, that sign, that presence, it is I!

Margaret Steele Anderson

The Cry Of The Children

"Theu theu, ti prosderkesthe m ommasin, tekna;"
[Alas, alas, why do you gaze at me with your eyes, my children.]
- Medea.


Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,
And that cannot stop their tears.
The young lambs are bleating in the meadows;
The young birds are chirping in the nest;
The young fawns are playing with the shadows;
The young flowers are blowing toward the west
But the young, young children, O my brothers,
They are weeping bitterly!
They are weeping in the playtime of the others,
In the country of the free.

Do you question the young children in the sorrow,
Why their tears are falling so?
The old man may weep for his to-mor...

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The Wife Of Manoah To Her Husband

Against the sunset's glowing wall
The city towers rise black and tall,
Where Zorah, on its rocky height,
Stands like an armed man in the light.

Down Eshtaol's vales of ripened grain
Falls like a cloud the night amain,
And up the hillsides climbing slow
The barley reapers homeward go.

Look, dearest! how our fair child's head
The sunset light hath hallowed,
Where at this olive's foot he lies,
Uplooking to the tranquil skies.

Oh, while beneath the fervent heat
Thy sickle swept the bearded wheat,
I've watched, with mingled joy and dread,
Our child upon his grassy bed.

Joy, which the mother feels alone
Whose morning hope like mine had flown,
When to her bosom, over-blessed,
A dearer life than hers is pressed.

Dread,...

John Greenleaf Whittier

Samson

Samson, the strongest of the children of men,
I sing; how he was foiled by woman's arts,
by a false wife brought to the gates of death!

O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams,
turning our earthly night to heavenly day,
from presence of the Almighty Father,
thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet,
bringing good news of Sin and Death destroyed!

O whiterobed Angel,
guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth,
that all who pass may read.
Now Night, noontide of damned spirits,
over the silent earth spreads her pavilion,
while in dark council sat Philista's lords;
and, where strength failed, black thoughts in ambush lay.

Their helmed youth and aged warriors in dust together lie,
and Desolation...

William Blake