We use cookies on this site to enhance your experience.
By selecting “Accept” and continuing to use this website, you consent to the use of cookies.
Search for academic programs, residence, tours and events and more.
Feb. 11, 2021
Print | PDFThe Heart of a Woman, Georgia Douglas Johnson
The heart of a woman goes forth with the dawn,
As a lone bird, soft winging, so restlessly on,
Afar o’er life’s turrets and vales does it roam
In the wake of those echoes the heart calls home.
The heart of a woman falls back with the night,
And enters some alien cage in its plight,
And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars
While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.
Night, Louise Wallace
Night comes
A Madonna clad in scented blue
Rose-red her mouth,
And deep her eyes,
She lights her stars, and turns to where
Beneath her silver lamp, the moon,
Upon a couch of shadow lies
A dreamy child, the wearied day.
Song to the Dark Virgin, Langston Hughes, from Collected Poems
Would
That I were a jewel,
A shattered jewel,
That all my shining brilliants
Might fall at thy feet,
Thou dark one.
Would
That I were a garment,
A shimmering, silken garment,
That all my folds
Might wrap about thy body,
Absorb thy body,
Hold and hide thy body,
Thou dark one.
Would
That I were a flame,
But one sharp, leaping flame
To annihilate thy body,
Thou dark one.
Boy’s Lips, Rita Dove, Adolescence
In water-heavy nights behind grandmother’s porch
We knelt in the tickling grasses and whispered:
Linda’s face hung before us, pale as a pecan,
And it grew wise as she said:
“A boy’s lips are soft,
As soft as baby’s skin.”
The air closed over her words.
A firefly whirred near my ear, and in the distance
I could hear street lamps ping
Into miniature suns
Against a feathery sky.
Blond Men, Julie Kane
I think I ought to warn you that I hate blond men before you break your heart
I think I ought to warn you that I hate blond men
I hate the greenish gold of their eyebrows and lashes
How they shatter the sun into rainbows
And their eyes: like a long drink of water
That clear and that cold
Worse than the eyes
Worse than the eyes is the blond hair
The shock of a bright blond head slanting above me
Like a sunbeam on the covers of my dark blue bed
Hotel, Guillaume Apollinaire
Translation, Kimberly Barber
My room has the form of a cage
The sun draws its arm across the window
But I, who wish to smoke, to create mirages
I light my cigarette on the flame of the day.
I don’t want to work:
I want to smoke
Je ne t’aime pas, Maurice Magre
Translation, Kimberly Barber
Pull away your hand: I don’t love you
Because you’re the one who said we were just friends.
Your arms are made for another,
Your sweet kiss, your sleeping head.
Don’t talk to me under cover of darkness
Too intimately, with a lowered voice
And definitely don’t give me your handkerchief
It’s infused too much with the scent of your perfume.
Tell me of your lovers, I don’t love you
Tell me about your most thrilling hour, I don’t love you
And whether she loves you, or whether she was ungrateful
When you tell me, above all, don’t be charming
I don’t love you.
I didn’t weep, I didn’t suffer
It was nothing but a dream, a flight of fancy.
It’s enough for me that your eyes shine brightly,
Without a night’s regret, a hint of melancholy
It’s enough to see your happiness, your smile:
Tell me how she stole your heart
And even tell me the things one should not speak of:
No! Please don’t! I beg you on my knees
The fire is extinguished, the door is closed
I don’t love you!
Please don’t ask why: I’m crying, that’s all.
I don’t love you, I don’t love you, I don’t love you.
Pull away your hand. I don’t love you.
For you there is no song, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Huntsman, What Quarry?
For you there is no song,
Only the shaking of the voice that meant to sing,
The sound of the strong voice breaking.
Strange in my hand appears the pen,
And yours broken
There are ink and tears on the page.
Only the tears have spoken.
Midtide, Verna Arvey
Gone are the years of my youth,
Gone the fire of my soul.
Empty my heart, empty my life,
Now only the waiting!
I can remember days full of sunlight,
of joy, of laughter,
I can remember blessed moments,
time shared, lives joined!
Gone are the things that I cherished,
Gone all my dreams!
Empty my thoughts, and the hours they used to fill,
Now only a blank wall!
I can remember vows made in faith,
In warmth, in passion!
I can remember each word of our pledge,
our trust, our promise!
Now lost! Each tender moment I spent
Waiting the sound of your voice!
For gone is my love,
Gone my only love!
Susan’s Dream, Alan Jay Lerner
Susan, she had a husband man to make a home for,
Made it shine because she loved him so.
Susan got lucky with the Lord and had some children,
Gave ‘em all her heart to help ‘em grow.
But now and then her man went drinkin’;
The kids got sick and cried till morn!
And now and then Susan, oh Susan,
Plumb got tired of home and livin’
And began to wish she’d not been born.
Yes, she did. She wished she’d not been born.
And then one night she was all wearied out
The kids had worn her ragged and her man was not about,
And she flopped on her knees by the side of her bed
And she wiped her flaming eyes and looked up and said:
Oh God, let ‘em sleep and when I sleep let me see
A heavenly dream of the way life could be.
That’s all that I want, so do that for me
When I sleep let me dream of the way life should be.
Then she got into bed and her achin’ slipped away.
And soon she was asleep and she heard a voice say:
Susan, oh Susan, I heard you pray,
Susan, oh Susan, you shall have your way.
There’s good in your soul and so you shall see
The dream that you want of the way life should be.
And Susan, then dreamed she
Had a man to make a home for;
Made it shine because she loved him so
Susan she dreamed she
Had a pair of angel children;
Gave ‘em all her heart to help ‘em grow.
And now and then her man went drinkin’
The kids got sick or acted bad,
And suddenly Susan
Woke up and with a sob she started smilin’
And she felt no longer blue and sad.
Susan dreamed exactly what she had.