Augusta Davies Webster

(30 January 1837 - 5 September 1894 / Dorset, England)

Augusta Davies Webster Poems

41. Joy That's Half Too Keen, And True 4/2/2010
42. Where Home Was 4/2/2010
43. Young May Sat Fainting And Chill 4/2/2010
44. Yu-Pe-Ya’s Dirge For Tse-Ky 4/2/2010
45. In An Almshouse 1/3/2003
46. Mother And Daughter- Sonnet Sequence 4/2/2010
47. The Violet And The Rose 4/2/2010
48. While The Woods Were Green 4/2/2010
49. Her Memories 4/2/2010
50. Where Found Love His Yesterday? 4/2/2010
51. A Dilettante 1/3/2003
52. Love's Mourner 1/3/2003
53. A Summer Mood 4/2/2010
54. A Comrade 4/2/2010
55. A Preacher 1/3/2003
56. Betrothed 4/2/2010
57. Hark The Sky-Lark In The Cloud 4/2/2010
58. A Coarse Morning 4/2/2010
59. Tell Thee Truth, Sweet; No 4/2/2010
60. Waiting, Waiting 4/2/2010
61. Choosing 4/2/2010
62. The Flower By The Path 4/2/2010
63. Dearest, This One Day We Own 4/2/2010
64. Belated 4/2/2010
65. My Loss 4/2/2010
66. Deserted 1/3/2003
67. White Rose And Red 4/2/2010
68. Beyond The Shadow 4/2/2010
69. The Happiest Girl In The World 1/3/2003
70. Disenchanted 4/2/2010
71. Autumn’s Warnings 4/2/2010
72. Dear Love, Good-Night 4/2/2010
73. Farewell 4/2/2010
74. Day Is Dead, And Let Us Sleep 4/2/2010
75. A Bird And Flower Upon The Tree 4/2/2010
76. Circe 1/3/2003
77. An Inventor 1/3/2003
78. A Soul In Prison 1/3/2003
79. A Song Of A Spring-Time 4/2/2010
80. Young Laughters, And My Music! 1/3/2003

Comments about Augusta Davies Webster

  • SUE SLACK (3/14/2018 2:46:00 AM)

    can I copy the photo of Augusta Webster for my forthcoming book on Votes fpor Women in Cambridge?

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Best Poem of Augusta Davies Webster

Birds Sing I Love You, Love

Birds sing "I love you, love" the whole day through,
And not another song can they sing right;
But, singing done with, loving's done with quite,
The autumn sunders every twittering two.
And I'd not have love make too much ado
With sweet parades of fondness and delight,
Lest iterant wont should make caresses trite,
Love-names mere cuckoo ousters of the true.

Oh heart can hear heart's sense in senseless nought,
And heart that's sure of heart has little speech.
What shall it tell? The other knows its thought.
What shall one doubt or question or ...

Read the full of Birds Sing I Love You, Love

A Castaway

Poor little diary, with its simple thoughts,
its good resolves, its "Studied French an hour,"
"Read Modern History," "Trimmed up my grey hat,"
"Darned stockings," "Tatted," "Practised my new song,"
"Went to the daily service," "Took Bess soup,"
"Went out to tea." Poor simple diary!
and did I write it? Was I this good girl,
this budding colourless young rose of home?
did I so live content in such a life,

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