THE POET

I weave my verses of smiles and tears,Gathered and shed for you,I bind them up in the hopes of years,Dear, will you read them through?I write my ballads of joy and pain,Cast at your heedless feet,I set the words to a lost refrain,Sing it but once, my Sweet!I breathe my life into rhyme and song,What shall I gain thereby?The verse is poor, and the tune is wrong,Kiss them and let them die.

I weave my verses of smiles and tears,Gathered and shed for you,I bind them up in the hopes of years,Dear, will you read them through?

I weave my verses of smiles and tears,

Gathered and shed for you,

I bind them up in the hopes of years,

Dear, will you read them through?

I write my ballads of joy and pain,Cast at your heedless feet,I set the words to a lost refrain,Sing it but once, my Sweet!

I write my ballads of joy and pain,

Cast at your heedless feet,

I set the words to a lost refrain,

Sing it but once, my Sweet!

I breathe my life into rhyme and song,What shall I gain thereby?The verse is poor, and the tune is wrong,Kiss them and let them die.

I breathe my life into rhyme and song,

What shall I gain thereby?

The verse is poor, and the tune is wrong,

Kiss them and let them die.

Time hangs suspended 'mid the perfumed dusk,With limpid wings, o'er which the first pale starGleams like a tear, within the tender, farDesirous eyes of love-lorn Destiny.The earth is dumb, the scents of many flowersFlow out from petalled lips upon her breast,In one unending sigh of happy rest.The halting pageant of the passing hoursUnfurls its misty pennants to the sea.The Nightingale has swooned for ecstasy,And hides away amid the vine-clad bowersUpon the terrace; Oh! impassioned dusk!Speechless with longing, throbbing with delightTo fling thy beauty in the arms of night,Thy rare, dim beauty sweet with breath of musk,Thou shalt not know thy joy nor him requiteWith tender ardour, ere there comes to meAdown thy paths from out eternity,My soul's twin soul, mine embodied bliss,Torn from the countless ages by a kiss.

Time hangs suspended 'mid the perfumed dusk,

With limpid wings, o'er which the first pale star

Gleams like a tear, within the tender, far

Desirous eyes of love-lorn Destiny.

The earth is dumb, the scents of many flowers

Flow out from petalled lips upon her breast,

In one unending sigh of happy rest.

The halting pageant of the passing hours

Unfurls its misty pennants to the sea.

The Nightingale has swooned for ecstasy,

And hides away amid the vine-clad bowers

Upon the terrace; Oh! impassioned dusk!

Speechless with longing, throbbing with delight

To fling thy beauty in the arms of night,

Thy rare, dim beauty sweet with breath of musk,

Thou shalt not know thy joy nor him requite

With tender ardour, ere there comes to me

Adown thy paths from out eternity,

My soul's twin soul, mine embodied bliss,

Torn from the countless ages by a kiss.

Give me your hands to hold,For the night and the wind are cold,And the year's growing sad and old,So give me your hands to hold.Give me your lips to press,For the light of the moon grows less,And the sky's full of dreariness,So give me your lips to press.Dear hands, dear lips, all mine!Let the moon and her beams decline,Let the night and the storm combine,If your hands and your lips are mine.

Give me your hands to hold,For the night and the wind are cold,And the year's growing sad and old,So give me your hands to hold.

Give me your hands to hold,

For the night and the wind are cold,

And the year's growing sad and old,

So give me your hands to hold.

Give me your lips to press,For the light of the moon grows less,And the sky's full of dreariness,So give me your lips to press.

Give me your lips to press,

For the light of the moon grows less,

And the sky's full of dreariness,

So give me your lips to press.

Dear hands, dear lips, all mine!Let the moon and her beams decline,Let the night and the storm combine,If your hands and your lips are mine.

Dear hands, dear lips, all mine!

Let the moon and her beams decline,

Let the night and the storm combine,

If your hands and your lips are mine.

What have we missed, we two—You and I—I and you—Of sorrow, and pain, and tears,Of doubt, and of passionate fears,Of madness, and badness, these years!And what have we missed, we two!But what have we missed, we two—You and I—I and you—Of rapture, and vast delight,Of loving, and living, of rightTo surrender, that love may requite,How much have we missed, we two!

What have we missed, we two—You and I—I and you—Of sorrow, and pain, and tears,Of doubt, and of passionate fears,Of madness, and badness, these years!And what have we missed, we two!

What have we missed, we two—

You and I—I and you—

Of sorrow, and pain, and tears,

Of doubt, and of passionate fears,

Of madness, and badness, these years!

And what have we missed, we two!

But what have we missed, we two—You and I—I and you—Of rapture, and vast delight,Of loving, and living, of rightTo surrender, that love may requite,How much have we missed, we two!

But what have we missed, we two—

You and I—I and you—

Of rapture, and vast delight,

Of loving, and living, of right

To surrender, that love may requite,

How much have we missed, we two!

The sun has set; Beloved see that star,Wan with desire, pale in the afterglow,Above the hill top hanging very low,As though she stooped from her high regions farTo kiss this earth, because she loved it so!While I, I feel the trembling touch of you,Feel the dim magic of your eyes on me,As thoughtwostars had fallen in the sea,And drowned themselves in his rejoicing blue,Lighting his soul through all eternity!

The sun has set; Beloved see that star,

Wan with desire, pale in the afterglow,

Above the hill top hanging very low,

As though she stooped from her high regions far

To kiss this earth, because she loved it so!

While I, I feel the trembling touch of you,Feel the dim magic of your eyes on me,As thoughtwostars had fallen in the sea,And drowned themselves in his rejoicing blue,Lighting his soul through all eternity!

While I, I feel the trembling touch of you,

Feel the dim magic of your eyes on me,

As thoughtwostars had fallen in the sea,

And drowned themselves in his rejoicing blue,

Lighting his soul through all eternity!

Come with me, sweetheart, into Italy,And press the burning goblet of the southTo those cold northern lips, until thy mouthRelents beneath its draft of ecstasy.Drink in the sun, made liquid in the breastsOf purple grapes crushed lifeless for thy wine,Until those over tranquil eyes of thineGlow like twin lakes, on which the noontide rests.Drink in the airs, those languid, vapoury sighsOf Goddesses, whose souls live on in love,Those amorous zephyrs, soft with plaint of doveFrom flowery trees of Pagan Paradise:Until thy brain grows hazy 'neath the fumesOf pale camellias, passionately white,Of scarlet roses dropping with delightTheir wanton petals in a shower of bloom.Drink in the music of some ardent song,Poured forth to die upon the wide, still lake,Until the darkness seems to throb and breakIn fiery stars whose pulses yearn and long.And then drink in my love; the whole of me,In one deep breath, one vast impassioned kiss,That come what may, thou canst remember this:That thou hast lived and lovedin Italy.

Come with me, sweetheart, into Italy,And press the burning goblet of the southTo those cold northern lips, until thy mouthRelents beneath its draft of ecstasy.

Come with me, sweetheart, into Italy,

And press the burning goblet of the south

To those cold northern lips, until thy mouth

Relents beneath its draft of ecstasy.

Drink in the sun, made liquid in the breastsOf purple grapes crushed lifeless for thy wine,Until those over tranquil eyes of thineGlow like twin lakes, on which the noontide rests.

Drink in the sun, made liquid in the breasts

Of purple grapes crushed lifeless for thy wine,

Until those over tranquil eyes of thine

Glow like twin lakes, on which the noontide rests.

Drink in the airs, those languid, vapoury sighsOf Goddesses, whose souls live on in love,Those amorous zephyrs, soft with plaint of doveFrom flowery trees of Pagan Paradise:

Drink in the airs, those languid, vapoury sighs

Of Goddesses, whose souls live on in love,

Those amorous zephyrs, soft with plaint of dove

From flowery trees of Pagan Paradise:

Until thy brain grows hazy 'neath the fumesOf pale camellias, passionately white,Of scarlet roses dropping with delightTheir wanton petals in a shower of bloom.

Until thy brain grows hazy 'neath the fumes

Of pale camellias, passionately white,

Of scarlet roses dropping with delight

Their wanton petals in a shower of bloom.

Drink in the music of some ardent song,Poured forth to die upon the wide, still lake,Until the darkness seems to throb and breakIn fiery stars whose pulses yearn and long.

Drink in the music of some ardent song,

Poured forth to die upon the wide, still lake,

Until the darkness seems to throb and break

In fiery stars whose pulses yearn and long.

And then drink in my love; the whole of me,In one deep breath, one vast impassioned kiss,That come what may, thou canst remember this:That thou hast lived and lovedin Italy.

And then drink in my love; the whole of me,

In one deep breath, one vast impassioned kiss,

That come what may, thou canst remember this:

That thou hast lived and lovedin Italy.

What is the end of all sweet things,Of these dawns and twilights and golden springs?Of the rose that climbs, and the scent that clings?Of the breeze that sighs, and the thrush that sings?Dust and ashes and death?No, my dearest! for you and IHere on the hill's summit under the skyHave found a magic, time cannot denyTo make immortal what else must die,The magic of Love's warm breath.

What is the end of all sweet things,

Of these dawns and twilights and golden springs?

Of the rose that climbs, and the scent that clings?

Of the breeze that sighs, and the thrush that sings?

Dust and ashes and death?

No, my dearest! for you and IHere on the hill's summit under the skyHave found a magic, time cannot denyTo make immortal what else must die,The magic of Love's warm breath.

No, my dearest! for you and I

Here on the hill's summit under the sky

Have found a magic, time cannot deny

To make immortal what else must die,

The magic of Love's warm breath.

The moon has risen from her cloudy bed,And soared serenely into cloudless blue,White as a lily in a haze of dew,Pale lady, to the Summer Darkness wed—She leaves her nuptial couch, by breezes spread,And seeks her virgin solitude anew;While all the being of the Dark thrills throughWith memories, the while her stately headShe lifts above him to the purer height,Nor heeds the restless anguish of desireWith which he seeks to turn to living fireThe icy splendour of her luring light.She drifts, and smiles into his ardent eyes,With cold disdain, and smiling still denies.

The moon has risen from her cloudy bed,

And soared serenely into cloudless blue,

White as a lily in a haze of dew,

Pale lady, to the Summer Darkness wed—

She leaves her nuptial couch, by breezes spread,

And seeks her virgin solitude anew;

While all the being of the Dark thrills through

With memories, the while her stately head

She lifts above him to the purer height,

Nor heeds the restless anguish of desire

With which he seeks to turn to living fire

The icy splendour of her luring light.

She drifts, and smiles into his ardent eyes,

With cold disdain, and smiling still denies.

Back to Index Next