Remembered
BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
HIS art was loving. Eros set his signUpon that youthful forehead, and he drewThe hearts of women, as the sun draws dew.Love feeds love’s thirst as wine feeds love of wine.Nor is there any potion from the vineWhich makes men drunken, like the subtle brew,Of kisses crushed by kisses; and he grewInebriated with that draught divine.Yet in his sober moments, when the sunOf radiant summer paled to lonely fallAnd passion’s sea had grown an ebbing tide,From out the many Memory singled oneFull cup that seemed the sweetest of them all—The warm, red mouth that mocked him and denied!
HIS art was loving. Eros set his signUpon that youthful forehead, and he drewThe hearts of women, as the sun draws dew.Love feeds love’s thirst as wine feeds love of wine.Nor is there any potion from the vineWhich makes men drunken, like the subtle brew,Of kisses crushed by kisses; and he grewInebriated with that draught divine.Yet in his sober moments, when the sunOf radiant summer paled to lonely fallAnd passion’s sea had grown an ebbing tide,From out the many Memory singled oneFull cup that seemed the sweetest of them all—The warm, red mouth that mocked him and denied!
HIS art was loving. Eros set his signUpon that youthful forehead, and he drewThe hearts of women, as the sun draws dew.Love feeds love’s thirst as wine feeds love of wine.Nor is there any potion from the vineWhich makes men drunken, like the subtle brew,Of kisses crushed by kisses; and he grewInebriated with that draught divine.
Yet in his sober moments, when the sunOf radiant summer paled to lonely fallAnd passion’s sea had grown an ebbing tide,From out the many Memory singled oneFull cup that seemed the sweetest of them all—The warm, red mouth that mocked him and denied!