Though I have had friends And a beautiful love There is yet one lover I await above all. She will not come to me In the time of soft plum-blossoms When the air is gay with birds singing And the sky is a delicate caress; She will come From the midst of vast clamour With a mist of stars about her And great beckoning plumes of white smoke Upon her leaping horses. She will bend suddenly and clasp me; She will clutch me with fierce arms And stab me with a kiss like a wound That bleeds slowly. But though she will hurt me at first In her strong gladness She will soon soothe me gently And cast upon me an unbreakable sleep Softly for ever. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS by PADRAIC COLUM ON THE DEATH OF SIR THOMAS WYATT by HENRY HOWARD SNOWFLAKES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE VIOLINIST by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 35 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |