I was, being human, born alone; I am, being woman, hard beset; I live by squeezing from a stone The little nourishment I get.
Elinor Morton Hoyt Wylie (1885 - 1928)
Source: Let No Charitable Hope, 1923, st. 2
Contributed by: Zaady
Hail, element of earth, receive thy own And cherish, at thy charitable breast, This man, this mongrel beast: He plows the sand, and, at his hardest need, He sows himself for seed.
Source: Hymn to Earth, 1929, st. 6
Enshrine her and she dies, who had The hard heart of a child.
Source: Beauty, 1921
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