Love, where the summer night is ripe and odorous, Flushed with the spilt wine of the golden-hearted stars, Out of the garden's dusk and those funereal bars I hear the voice of Romeo, Juliet calling us Unto the marriage-grave of love's too keen delight; And in the voice of Juliet I have heard the cry (O heart, to put on passion's immortality!) Of your wild heart to mine, under a winter night. Out of the winter night a little light is born, Yet still in shadowy ways our love goes wandering, Our heavy-hearted pilgrim love, a way-worn thing, Faint, though the sky is brightening to the breaking morn | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT APRIL by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! by THOMAS MOORE TWO SONGS FROM THE PERSIAN: 2 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A CHILD IS WEEPING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 20. EVER PRESENT by PHILIP AYRES SCHOOLTEACHER by ANGELO PHILIP BERTOCCI |