Work.

Mine is the shape forever set between
The thought and form, the vision and the deed;
The hidden light, the glory all unseen,
I bring to mortal senses, mortal need.

Who loves me not, my sorrowing slave is he,
Bent with the burden, knowing oft the rod;
But he who loves me shall my master be,
And use me with the joyance of a god.

Man's lord or servant, still I am his friend;
Desire for me is simple as his breath;
Yea, waiting, old and patient, for the end,
He prays that he may find me after death!

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

Odes Of A Boy.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

The Angel And The Child.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

Hawthorne.

Margaret Steele Anderson, Simple Poetry

To A Fighter, Dead.

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 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 Earth Voice And Its Answer

        I plucked a fair flower that grew
In the shadow of summer's green trees -
                A rose petalled flower,
                Of all in the bower,
        Best beloved of the bee and the breeze
I plucked it, and kissed it, and called it my own -
        This beautiful, beautiful flower
That alone in the cool, tender shadow had grown,
        Fairest and first in the bower

        Then a murmur I heard at my feet -
        A pensive and sorrowful sound,
                And I stooped me to hear,
                While tear after tear
        Rained down from my eyes to the ground,
                As I, listening, heard
                This sorrowful word,
        So breathing of anguish profound: -

        "I have gathered the fairest...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

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

Work.

Yet life is not a vision nor a prayer,
    But stubborn work; she may not shun her task.
After the first compassion, none will spare
    Her portion and her work achieved, to ask.
She pleads for respite, - she will come ere long
When, resting by the roadside, she is strong.


Nay, for the hurrying throng of passers-by
    Will crush her with their onward-rolling stream.
Much must be done before the brief light die;
    She may not loiter, rapt in the vain dream.
With unused trembling hands, and faltering feet,
She staggers forth, her lot assigned to meet.


But when she fills her days with duties done,
    Strange vigor comes, she is restored to health.
New aims, new interests rise with each new sun,
    And life still holds for her unbounded we...

Emma Lazarus

Work

What though the heart be tired,
The heart, that long aspired,
And one high dream desired,
Beyond attainment's scope;
Beyond our grasp; above us;
The dream we would have love us,
That will know nothing of us,
But merely bids us hope.

Still it behooves us never
From love and work to sever,
To hold to one endeavor,
And make our dream our care:
For work, at dawn and even,
Shapes for the soul a heaven,
Wherein, as strong as seven,
Can enter no Despair.

Work, that blows high the fire
Of hope and heart's desire,
And sings and dreams of higher
Things than the world's regard:
Work, which to long endeavor,
And patient love, that never
Seems recompensed, forever
Gives, in its way, reward.

Madison Julius Cawein

Ambition And Art

I am the maid of the lustrous eyes
Of great fruition,
Whom the sons of men that are over-wise
Have called Ambition.

And the world's success is the only goal
I have within me;
The meanest man with the smallest soul
May woo and win me.

For the lust of power and the pride of place
To all I proffer.
Wilt thou take thy part in the crowded race
For what I offer?

The choice is thine, and the world is wide,
Thy path is lonely.
I may not lead and I may not guide,
I urge thee only.

I am just a whip and a spur that smites
To fierce endeavour.
In the restless days and the sleepless nights
I urge thee ever.

Thou shalt wake from sleep with a startled cry,
In fright unleaping
At a rival's step as it passes by
W...

Andrew Barton Paterson