I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, I hear it in the deep heart's core.

A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, our stitching and unstitching has been naught.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

To be born woman is to know - although they do not speak of it at school - women must labor to be beautiful.

On limestone quarried near the spot By his command these words are cut: Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!

A line will take us hours maybe; / Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, / Our stitching and unstitching has been naught... Better go down upon your marrow-bones / And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones... For to articulate sweet sounds together / Is to work harder than all these, and yet / Be thought an idler by the noisy set.

An intellectual hate is the worst.