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Edith Wharton

A Poem by Edith Wharton: Wants

  Wants WE women want too many things; And first we call for happiness, – The careless boon the hour brings, The smile, the song, and the caress. And when the fancy fades, we cry, Nay, give us one on ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton: Uses

  Uses AH, from the niggard tree of Time How quickly fall the hours! It needs no touch of wind or rime To loose such facile flowers. Drift of the dead year’s harvesting, They clog to-morrow’s way, Yet serve to ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton: The Sonnet

  The Sonnet PURE form, that like some chalice of old time Contain’st the liquid of the poet’s thought Within thy curving hollow, gem-enwrought With interwoven traceries of rhyme, While o’er thy brim the bubbling fancies climb, What thing am ...

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