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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Fanny Brice 1918 platinum print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Statuesque Woman ca. 1920 gelatin silver print New Britain Museum of American Art, Connecticut |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Norma Shearer ca. 1920 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Lillian Gish 1922 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Clara Bow 1923 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Raymond Hitchcock ca. 1925 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Mrs Cornelius Vanderbilt (Grace Graham Wilson) ca. 1925 gelatin silver print Chrysler Museum of Art, Norfolk, Virginia |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Ida Tarbell ca. 1925 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Fredric March ca. 1925 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Mary Pickford ca. 1925 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Emily Post ca. 1925 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Barbara Stanwyck ca. 1927 gelatin silver print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Marjorie Merriweather Post 1929 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Dance Exhibition in Nightclub ca. 1934 tricolor carbro print Minneapolis Institute of Art |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Woman with Red Nails ca. 1934 tricolor carbro print Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri |
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| Alfred Cheney Johnston Tyrone Power ca. 1936 gelatin silver print National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC |
from The Amores
O! Love! how cold, and slow to take my part!
Thou idle Wanderer, about my Heart;
Why thy old faithfull Souldier wilt thou see
Opprest in thine own Tents? They Murder me:
Thy flames consume, thy Arrows pierce thy Friends,
Rather on foes pursue more Noble ends.
Achilles Sword wou'd generously bestow
A cure as certaine, as it gave the blow.
Hunters, who follow flying Game, give o'er
When the Prey's caught, hope still leads on before.
Wee thy owne Slaves feele thy Tyrannick blows,
While thy tame hand's unmov'd against thy Foes.
On Men disarm'd, how can you gallant prove?
And I was long ago disarm'd by Love.
Millions of dull Men live, and scornfull Maids,
We'll owne Love Valiant, when he these invades.
Rome, from each Corner of the wide World snatch'd,
A Lawrell; or't had beene to this day Thatch'd.
But the old Souldier has his resting place,
And the good batter'd Horse is turnd to Grasse.
The Harrast Whore, who liv'd a Wretch to please
Has leave to be a Bawd, and take her ease.
For me then, who have freely spent my blood
(Love) in thy service, and soe boldly stood
In Celias Trenches; wer't not wisely done,
E'en to retire, and live at peace at home?
Noe, might I gaine a Godhead, to disclaime
My glorious Title to my endlesse flame,
Divinity with scorne I wou'd forsweare,
Such sweete, deare tempting Devills, Women are.