To woo an immortal,
Cold, cold the moon’s light
For sleep at this portal,
Bold lover of night.
Fair is the mortal
In soft, silken white,
Who seeks an immortal.
Ah, lover of night,
Be warned at the portal,
And save thee in flight!
Similar Posts
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;Surely the kisses…
They sleep well here,
In fierce Atlantic ways;And found not there,Beneath the long curled wave,So quiet a grave.And they sleep well,These peasant-folk, who told their lives away,From day to market-day,As one should tell,With patient industry,Some sad old rosary.And now night falls,Me, tempest-tost, and driven from pillar to post,A poor worn ghost,This quiet pasture calls;And dear dead people with pale…
Ah, Manon, say, why is it we
Thy rich red beauty debonnaireIn very truth is not more fair,Than the shy grace and purityThat clothe the maiden maidenly;Her gray eyes shine more tenderlyAnd not less bright than thine her hair;Ah, Manon, say!Expound, I pray, the mysteryWhy wine-stained lip and languid eye,And most unsaintly Maenad air,Should move us more than all the rareWhite roses…
(For Arthur Symons)
And all my memories were put to sleep.I watched the river grow more white and strange,All day till evening I watched it change.All day till evening I watched the rainBeat wearily upon the window paneI was not sorrowful, but only tiredOf everything that ever I desired.Her lips, her eyes, all day became to meThe shadow…
Dew on her robe and on her tangled hair;
With dainty step brushing the young, green grass,The while she trills some high, fantastic air,Full of all feathered sweetness: she is fair,And all her flower-like beauty, as a glass,Mirrors out hope and love: and still, alas!Traces of tears her languid lashes wear.Say, doth she weep for very wantonness?Or is it that she dimly doth foreseeAcross…
What land of Silence,
On apple-blossomAnd dew-drenched vine,Is yours and mine?The silent valleyThat we will find,Where all the voicesOf humankindAre left behind.There all forgetting,Forgotten quite,We will repose us,With our delightHid out of sight.The world forsaken,And out of mindHonour and labour,We shall not findThe stars unkind.And men shall travail,And laugh and weep;But we have vistasOf Gods asleep,With dreams as deep.A…