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قراءة كتاب The Sunken Garden and other poems
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
as I talked with him.
Hill and deep were in his eyes;
One of his hands held mine, and one
The fruit that makes men wise.
Flowers white as milk did gleam;
Spread to Heaven the Assyrian Tree
Over my head with Dream.
Stars a trembling beauty shed;
Yet—not a whisper comes again
Of the words he said.
THE FLIGHT
HOW DO THE DAYS press on, and lay
Their fallen locks at evening down,
Whileas the stars in darkness play
And moonbeams weave a crown—
Where in the hollow arch of space
Morn’s mistress dreams, and the Pleiads seven
Stand watch about her place.
Of hours when this dark clay is blind.
When the world’s clocks are dumb in sleep
’Tis then I seek my kind.
THE REMONSTRANCE
I WAS AT PEACE UNTIL YOU CAME
And set a careless mind aflame;
I lived in quiet; cold, content;
All longing in safe banishment,
Until your ghostly lips and eyes
Made wisdom unwise.
To seek a lodging. Quite forgot
Lay the sweet solitude we two
In childhood used to wander through;
Time’s cold had closed my heart about;
And shut you out.
Take all the little all I have!
Strip me of what in voiceless thought
Life’s kept of life, unhoped, unsought!—
Reverie and dream that memory must
Hide deep in dust!
The haunted house you have chosen to share,
Still ’neath its walls the moonbeam goes
And trembles on the untended rose;
Still o’er its broken roof-tree rise
The starry arches of the skies;
And ’neath your lightest word shall be
The thunder of an ebbing sea.
THE EXILE
I AM that Adam who, with Snake for guest,
Hid anguished eyes upon Eve’s piteous breast.
I am that Adam who, with broken wings,
Fled from the Seraph’s brazen trumpetings.
Betrayed and fugitive, I still must roam
A world where sin—and beauty—whisper of home.
Pure daybreak lighten again on Eden’s tree?
Loosed from remorse and hope and love’s distress,
Enrobe me again in my lost nakedness?
No more with wordless grief a loved one grieve,
But to heaven’s nothingness re-welcome Eve?
THE TRYST
WHY IN MY HEART, O GRIEF,
Dost thou in beauty bide?
Dead is my well-content,
And buried deep my pride.
Cold are their stones, beloved,
To hand and side.
Shut are the day’s clear flowers,
Now have her birds left mute
Their singing bowers,
Lone shall we be, we twain,
In the night hours.
And dark hair loosed, shalt see
Take the far stars for fruit
The cypress tree,
And in the yew’s black
Shall the moon be.
Nor heed if in wandering air
Die a lost song of love
Or the once fair;
Still as well-water be
The thoughts we share!
Tryst from chill sepulchres,
Dreamless our gaze shall sleep,
And sealed our ears;
Heart unto heart will speak,
Without tears.
Joy’s strange disguise—
Shall be the last to fade
From these rapt eyes,
Ere the first dart of daybreak
Pierce the skies.