Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

The Forerunner (1:1): "Thanksong" (Poem, Charlotte Perkins Gilman)


The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

Thankful are we for life
--And the joy of living.
Baby-pleasure of taking;
--Mother-glory of giving.

Thankful are we for light
--And the joy of seeing.
Stir of emotion strong,
--And the peace of being.

Thankful are we for power,
--And the pride ensuing;
Baby-pleasure of having,
--Father-glory of doing.
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Originally published in Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909).

Etext from Project Gutenberg.

This public domain text has been presented as found (with some minor format changes); this website and its owners are not responsible for errors, substantive and/or minor.

The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

The Forerunner (1:1): "Thanksgiving" (Poem, Charlotte Perkins Gilman)


The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

I never thought much of the folks who pray
--The Lord to make them thankful for a meal
Expecting Him to furnish all the food
And then provide them with the gratitude
--They haven't grace to feel.

I never thought much of this yearly thanks,
--Either for what once happened long ago,
Or for "our constant mercies." To my mind
If we're to thank a Power that's daily kind,
--Our annual's too slow.

Suppose we spread Thanksgiving--hand it round--
--Give God an honest heartful every day;
And, while we're being thankful, why not give
Some gratitude to those by whom we live--
--As well as stingy pay?

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Originally published in Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909).

Etext from Project Gutenberg.

This public domain text has been presented as found (with some minor format changes); this website and its owners are not responsible for errors, substantive and/or minor.

The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

The Forerunner (1:1): "How Doth The Hat" (Poem, Charlotte Perkins Gilman)


The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

How doth the hat loom large upon her head!
Furred like a busby; plumed as hearses are;
Armed with eye-spearing quills; bewebbed and hung
With lacy, silky, downy draperies;
With spread, wide-waggling feathers fronded high
In bosky thickets of Cimmerian gloom.

How doth the hat with colors dare the eye!
Arrest--attract--allure--affront--appall!
Vivid and varied as are paroquets;
Dove-dull; one mass of white; all solid red;
Black with the blackness of a mourning world--
Compounded type of "Chaos and Old Night"!

How doth the hat expand: wax wide, and swell!
Such is its size that none can predicate
Or hair, or head, or shoulders of the frame
Below thIs bulk, this beauty-burying bulk;
Trespassing rude on all who walk beside,
Brutally blinding all who sit behind.

How doth the hat's mere mass more monstrous grow
Into a riot of repugnant shapes!
Shapes ignominious, extreme, bizarre,
Bulbous, distorted, unsymmetrical--
Of no relation to the human head--
To beauty, comfort, dignity or grace.

Shape of a dishpan! Of a pail! A tub!
Of an inverted wastebasket wherein
The head finds lodgment most appropriate!
Shape of a wide-spread wilted griddlecake!
Shape of the body of an octopus
Set sideways on a fireman's misplaced brim!

How doth the hat show callous cruelty
In decoration costing countless deaths;
Carrying corpses for its ornaments;
Wreath of dead humming-birds, dismembered gulls,
The mother heron's breastknot, stiffened wings;
Torn fragments of a world of wasted life.

How doth the hat effect the minds of men?
Patient bill-payers, chivalrously dumb!
What does it indicate of woman's growth;
Her sense of beauty, her intelligence,
Her thought for others measured with herself,
Her place and grade in human life to-day?

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Originally published in Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909).

Etext from Project Gutenberg.

This public domain text has been presented as found (with some minor format changes); this website and its owners are not responsible for errors, substantive and/or minor.

The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

The Forerunner (1:1): "Arrears" (Poem, Charlotte Perkins Gilman)


The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents


Our gratitude goes up in smoke,
--In incense smoke of prayer;
We thank the Underlying Love,
--The Overarching Care--
We do not thank the living men
--Who make our lives so fair.

For long insolvent centuries
--We have been clothed and fed,
By the spared captive, spared for once,
--By inches slain instead;
He gave his service and is gone;
--Unthanked, unpaid, and dead.

His labor built the world we love;
--Our highest flights to-day
Rest on the service of the past,
--Which we can never pay;
A long repudiated debt
--Blackens our upward way.

Our fingers owed his fathers dead--
--Disgrace beyond repair!
No late remorse, no new-found shame
--Can save our honor there:
But we can now begin to pay
--The starved and stunted heir!

We thank the Power above for all--
--Gladly we do, and should.
But might we not save out a part
--Of our large gratitude,
And give it to the power on earth--
--Where it will do some good?
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Originally published in Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909).

Etext from Project Gutenberg.

This public domain text has been presented as found (with some minor format changes); this website and its owners are not responsible for errors, substantive and/or minor.

The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

The Forerunner (1:1): "Then This" (Poem, Charlotte Perkins Gilman)


The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

The news-stands bloom with magazines,
--They flame, they blaze indeed;
So bright the cover-colors glow,
So clear the startling stories show,
So vivid their pictorial scenes,
--That he who runs may read.

Then This: It strives in prose and verse,
--Thought, fancy, fact and fun,
To tell the things we ought to know,
To point the way we ought to go,
So audibly to bless and curse,
--That he who reads may run.

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Originally published in Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909).

Etext from Project Gutenberg.

This public domain text has been presented as found (with some minor format changes); this website and its owners are not responsible for errors, substantive and/or minor.

The Forerunner: 1:1 (November 1909): Table of Contents

Poem: Similar Cases (Charlotte Perkins Gilman)

There was once a little animal,
No bigger than a fox,
And on five toes he scampered
Over Tertiary rocks.
They called him Eohippus,
And they called him very small,
And they thought him of no value -
When they thought of him at all;
For the lumpish old Dinoceras
And Coryphodon so slow
Were the heavy aristocracy
In days of long ago.

Said the little Eohippus,
"I am going to be a horse!
And on my middle finger-nails
To run my earthly course!
I'm going to have a flowing tail!
I'm going to have a mane!
I'm going to stand fourteen hands high
On the psychozoic plain!"

The Coryphodon was horrified,
The Dinoceras was shocked;
And they chased young Eohippus,
But he skipped away and mocked.
And they laughed enormous laughter,
And they groaned enormous groans,
And they bade young Eohippus
Go view his father's bones.
Said they, "You always were as small
And mean as now we see,
And that's conclusive evidence
That you're always going to be.
What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast,
With hoofs to gallop on?
Why! You'd have to change your nature!"
Said the Loxolophodon.
They considered him disposed of,
And retired with gait serene;
That was the way they argued
In "the early Eocene."

There was once an Anthropoidal Ape,
Far smarter than the rest,
And everything that they could do
He always did the best;
So they naturally disliked him,
And they gave him shoulders cool,
And when they had to mention him
They said he was a fool.

Cried this pretentious Ape one day,
"I'm going to be a Man!
And stand upright, and hunt, and fight,
And conquer all I can!
I'm going to cut down forest trees,
To make my houses higher!
I'm going to kill the Mastodon!
I'm going to make a fire!"

Loud screamed the Anthropoidal Apes
With laughter wild and gay;
They tried to catch that boastful one,
But he always got away.
So they yelled at him in chorus,
Which he minded not a whit;
And they pelted him with cocoanuts,
Which didn't seem to hit.
And then they gave him reasons
Which they thought of much avail,
To prove how his preposterous
Attempt was sure to fail.
Said the sages, "In the first place,
The thing cannot be done!
And, second, if it could be,
It would not be any fun!
And, third, and most conclusive,
And admitting no reply,
You would have to change your nature!
We should like to see you try!"
They chuckled then triumphantly,
These lean and hairy shapes,
For these things passed as arguments
With the Anthropoidal Apes.

There was once a Neolithic Man,
An enterprising wight,
Who made his chopping implements
Unusually bright.
Unusually clever he,
Unusually brave,
And he drew delightful Mammoths
On the borders of his cave.
To his Neolithic neighbors,
Who were startled and surprised,
Said he, "My friends, in course of time,
We shall be civilized!
We are going to live in cities!
We are going to fight in wars!
We are going to eat three times a day
Without the natural cause!
We are going to turn life upside down
About a thing called gold!
We are going to want the earth, and take
As much as we can hold!
We are going to wear great piles of stuff
Outside our proper skins!
We are going to have diseases!
And Accomplishments!! And Sins!!!"

Then they all rose up in fury
Against their boastful friend,
For prehistoric patience
Cometh quickly to an end.
Said one, "This is chimerical!
Utopian! Absurd!"
Said another, "What a stupid life!
Too dull, upon my word!"
Cried all, "Before such things can come,
You idiotic child,
You must alter Human Nature!"
And they all sat back and smiled.
Thought they, "An answer to that last
It will be hard to find!"
It was a clinching argument
To the Neolithic Mind!

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Originally published: In This Our World, Boston: Small, Maynard & Company Publishing, 1893. 95-100.

Poem: One Girl of Many (Charlotte Perkins Gilman)

("One Girl of Many," 1884, is Gilman's second known publication.)


1.

One girl of many. Hungry from her birth
Half-fed. Half-clothed. Untaught of woman’s worth.
In joyless girlhood working for her bread.
At each small sorrow wishing she were dead,
Yet gay at little pleasures. Sunlight seems
Most bright & warm where it most seldom gleams.


2.

One girl of many. Tawdry dress and old;
And not enough beneath to bar the cold.
The little that she had misspent because
She had no knowledge of our nature’s laws.
Thinking in ignorance that it was best
To wear a stylish look, and -- bear the rest.


3.

One girl of many. With a human heart.
A woman’s too; with nerves that feel the smart
Of each new pain as keenly as your own.
The old ones, through long use, have softer grown.
And yet in spite of use she holds the thought
Of might-be joys more than, perhaps, she ought.


4.

One girl of many. But the fault is here;
Though she to all the others was so near;
One difference there was, which made a change.
No wrong thing, surely. Consequence most strange!
Alike in birth. Alike in life’s rough way.
She, through no evil, was more fair than they.


5.

So came the offer, “Leave this story cold
Where you may drudge and starve till you are old.
Come! I will give you rest. And food. And fire.
And fair apparel to your heart’s desire;
Shelter. Protection. Kindness. Peace & Love.
Has your life anything you hold above?”


6.

And she had not. In all her daily sight
There shone no vestige of the color White.
She had seen nothing in her narrow life
To make her venerate the title “Wife.”
She knew no reason why the thing was wrong;
And instinct grows debased in ages long.


7.

All things that she had ever yet desired
All dreams that her starved girlhood’s heart had fired
All that life held of yet unknown delight
Shone, to her ignorance, in colors bright.
Shone near at hand and sure. If she had known!
But she was ignorant. She was alone.


8.

And so she -- sinned. I think we call it sin.
And found that every step she took therein
Made sinning easier and conscience weak.
And there was never one who cared to speak
A word to guide and warn her. If there were
I fear such help were thrown away on her.


9.

Only one girl of many. Of the street.
In lowest depths. The story grows unmeet
For wellbred ears. Sorrow and sin and shame
Over and over till the blackened name
Sank out of sight without a hand to save.
Sin, shame, and sorrow. Sickness, & the grave.


10.

Only one girl of many. Tis a need
Of man’s existence to repeat the deed.
Social necessity. Men cannot live
Without what these disgraceful creatures give.
Black shame. Dishonor. Misery & Sin.
And men find needed health & life therein.

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Original publication: Alpha, 1 Feb. 1884.

Poem: In Duty Bound (Charlotte Perkins Gilman)

("In Duty Bound" is often noted as Charlotte Perkins Gilman's first published work. However, there is evidence that she published the poem "To D.G." in 1880, in the 20 May 1880, issue of the New England Journal of Education.)

In duty bound, a life hemmed in,
----Whichever way the spirit turns to look;
No chance of breaking out, except by sin,
----Not even room to shirk--
----Simply to live, and work.

An obligation preimposed, unsought,
----Yet binding with the force of natural law;
The pressure of antagonistic thought;
----Aching within, each hour,
----A sense of wasting power.

A house with roof so darkly low
----The heavy rafters shut the sunlight out;
One cannot stand erect without a blow;
----Until the soul inside
----Cries for a grave--more wide.

A consciousness that if this thing endure,
----The common joys of life will dull the pain;
The high ideals of the grand and pure
----Die, as of course they must
----Of long disuse and rust.

That is the worst. It takes supernal strength
----To hold the attitude that brings the pain;
And there are few indeed but stoop at length
----To something less than best,
----To find, in stooping, rest.

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Original publication: Buffalo Christian Advocate, 12 January 1884.