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. The Flower By The Path 4/2/2010
43. Where Home Was 4/2/2010
44. Young May Sat Fainting And Chill 4/2/2010
45. Yu-Pe-Ya’s Dirge For Tse-Ky 4/2/2010
46. My Loss 4/2/2010
47. In An Almshouse 1/3/2003
48. Mother And Daughter- Sonnet Sequence 4/2/2010
49. The Violet And The Rose 4/2/2010
50. While The Woods Were Green 4/2/2010
51. Her Memories 4/2/2010
52. Where Found Love His Yesterday? 4/2/2010
53. A Dilettante 1/3/2003
54. Love's Mourner 1/3/2003
55. A Summer Mood 4/2/2010
56. A Comrade 4/2/2010
57. A Preacher 1/3/2003
58. Betrothed 4/2/2010
59. Hark The Sky-Lark In The Cloud 4/2/2010
60. A Coarse Morning 4/2/2010
61. Tell Thee Truth, Sweet; No 4/2/2010
62. Waiting, Waiting 4/2/2010
63. Choosing 4/2/2010
64. Dearest, This One Day We Own 4/2/2010
65. Belated 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. An Inventor 1/3/2003
74. Farewell 4/2/2010
75. Day Is Dead, And Let Us Sleep 4/2/2010
76. A Bird And Flower Upon The Tree 4/2/2010
77. Circe 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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