Arthur Guiterman

(1871-1943 / United States)

Arthur Guiterman Poems

1. Our Suburb 4/13/2010
2. Radiolatry 4/13/2010
3. Homeward Bound 3/19/2015
4. Truth and Falsehood 5/8/2015
5. A Valentine 5/9/2015
6. Youth and Age 5/15/2015
7. The First Cat 5/23/2015
8. The Ambiguous Dog 5/27/2015
9. A Boy and a Pup 5/27/2015
10. The Mother 6/2/2015
11. The Superstitious Ghost 6/4/2015
12. How the Birds Came 7/2/2015
13. The Bee 7/22/2015
14. The Wings of the Mountains 7/27/2015
15. The Traveler 4/13/2010
16. Falsehood and Sin 8/10/2015
17. Hallowe'en Charm 11/23/2015
18. New Year, 1918 12/11/2015
19. A Bill from Cupid 2/4/2016
20. Fame 4/8/2016
21. Pipes of Pan 5/25/2016
22. The Phlebotomous Flea 4/13/2010
23. Rags And Robes 4/13/2010
24. My Hills Of Dreams 4/13/2010
25. Going To Dover 4/13/2010
26. The Passionate Suburbanite To His Love 4/13/2010
27. Sea Sickness 4/13/2010
28. Nocturne 4/13/2010
29. Kindness To Insects 4/13/2010
30. Pithecanthropus Erectus 4/13/2010
31. This is She 8/8/2015
32. What One Approves, Another Scorns 4/13/2010
33. The Dream Of Chuang Tzu 12/13/2014
34. Pershing At The Front 4/13/2010
35. The Great Tyrannosaurus 4/13/2010
36. Heritage 4/13/2010
37. The Legend Of The First Cam-U-El: An Arabian Apologue 4/13/2010
38. The Idol-Maker Prays 1/4/2003
39. Hills 4/13/2010
40. Safety First 4/13/2010
Best Poem of Arthur Guiterman

Sex

Amœbas at the start
Were not complex;
They tore themselves apart
And started Sex.

And Sex has ruled the earth
From then till this,
Producing woe and mirth
And pain and bliss.

Through Sex the seedling wakes
To cleave the ground;
'Tis really Sex that makes
The world go 'round.

It sublimates the mind
With noble themes,
Or sends it unrefined,
Suggestive dreams.

'Tis Sex that rules the lives
Of clods and kings;
It gives us books and wives
And other things-

Ambition, love, and strife
And all the ills
And ecstasies ...

Read the full of Sex

Hills

I never loved your plains!--
Your gentle valleys,
Your drowsy country lanes
And pleachéd alleys.

I want my hills! -- the trail
That scorns the hollow.--
Up, up the ragged shale
Where few will follow,

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