He laid his dear face next to mine, His eyes aflame burned close to mine, His heart to mine, his lips to mine, O he was mine, all mine, all mine. Drunk with old wine of love I was, Drunk as the wild bee in the grass: Yea, as the wild bee in the grass, Drunk, drunk, with wine of love I was! His lips of life to me were fief, Beneath him I was but a leaf Blown by the wind, a shaken leaf, Yea, as the sickle reaps the sheaf, My Grief! He reaped me as a gathered sheaf! His to be gathered, his the bliss, But not a greater bliss than this! All of the empty world to miss For wild redemption of his kiss! My Grief! For hell was lost, though heaven was brief Sphered in the universe of thy kiss— So cries to thee thy fallen leaf, Thy gathered sheaf, Lord of my life, my Pride, my Chief, My Grief! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF MR. CRASHAW by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE KING'S HAND by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II AN EPITAPH ON A DUTCH CAPTAIN by PHILIP AYRES CHINESE PICTURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE STORM by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |