Come with outstretched arms to take me,
Come with lips pursed up to cling.
Come, for life is a frail moth flying
Caught in the web of the years that pass,
And soon we two,so warm and eager,
Will be as the gray stones in the grass.
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As dew leaves the cobweb lightly
Scattering jewels on the fenceAnd the pasture bars;As dawn leaves the dry grass brightAnd the tangled weedsBearing a rainbow gemOn each of their seeds;So has your love, my lover,Fresh as the dawn,Made me a shining roadTo travel on,Set every common sightOf tree or stoneDelicately alightFor me alone.
WAVES are the sea’s white daughters,
But why for my shimmering bodyHave I a mother like Pain?Night is the mother of stars,And wind the mother of foam—The world is brimming with beauty,But I must stay at home.
INTO my heart’s treasury
That time cannot takeNor a thief purloin,—Oh better than the mintingOf a gold-crowned kingIs the safe-kept memoryOf a lovely thing.
I gave my life to another lover,
But over a dream the past will hover,Out of a dream the past will call.I tear myself from sleep with a shiverBut on my breast a kiss is hot,And by my bed the ghostly giverIs waiting tho’ I see him not.
They never saw my lover’s face,
Wearing awhile a windy graceAnd passing like an autumn leaf.They wonder why I do not weep,They think it strange that I can sing,They say, ‘Her love was scarcely deepSince it has left so slight a sting.’They never saw my love, nor knewThat in my heart’s most secret placeI pity them as angels doMen who have…
IN Warsaw in Poland
The one I love best of allThought of me to-day;I know, for I wentWinged as a bird,In the wide flowing windHis own voice I heard;His arms were round meIn a ferny place,I looked in the poolAnd there was his face—But now it is nightAnd the cold stars say:‘Warsaw in PolandIs half the world away.’