Well, how has it been with you since we met That last strange time of a hundred times? When we met to swear that we could forget - I your caresses, and you my rhymes -...
The Moralists tell us that Loving is Sinning, And always are prating about and about it, But as Love of Existence itself's the beginning, Say, what would Existence itself be without it? ...
Now when wan winter sunsets be Canary-colored down the sky; When nights are starless utterly, And sleeted winds cut moaning by, One's memory keeps one company, And conscience puts his "when" and "why."...
I touch but the things which are near; The heavens are too high for my reach: In shadow and symbol and creed, I discern not the soul from the deed, Nor the thought hidden under, from speech;...
Soul, dost thou shudder at the narrow tomb? Heart, dost thou dread to moulder in the dust, To meet the fate that all things mortal must, Strength in its pride, and beauty in its bloom?...
Where, oh where are the visions of morning, Fresh as the dews of our prime? Gone, like tenants that quit without warning, Down the back entry of time. ...
Who built Thebes of the seven gates? In the books you will find the names of kings. Did the kings haul up the lumps of rock? And Babylon, many times demolished Who raised it up so many times? In what houses...
A bending staff I would not break, A feeble faith I would not shake, Nor even rashly pluck away The error which some truth may stay, Whose loss might leave the soul without...
Espion aile de la jeune amante De l'ombre des palmiers pourquoi ce cri? Laisse en paix le beau garcon plaider et vaincre - Pourquoi, pourquoi demander 'Qu'est qu'il dit?' ...
Dear Heart, I think the young impassioned priest When first he takes from out the hidden shrine His God imprisoned in the Eucharist, And eats the bread, and drinks the dreadful wine, ...
Am i not he that hath made thee and begotten thee, I, God, the spirit of man? Wherefore now these eighteen years hast thou forgotten me, From whom thy life began?...
What part is left thee, lion? Ravenous beast, Which hadst the world for pasture, and for scope And compass of thine homicidal hope The kingdom of the spirit of man, the feast...
The end was quick and bitter. Slow and sweet was the time between us, slow and sweet were the nights when my hands did not touch one another in despair but in the love of your body which came between them....
Quicksand years that whirl me I know not whither, Your schemes, politics, fail, lines give way, substances mock and elude me, Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess'd soul, eludes not,...
Quick! we have but a second, Fill round the cup, while you may; For Time, the churl, hath beckoned, And we must away, away! Grasp the pleasure that's flying, For oh, not Orpheus' strain...
When I weekly knew An ancient pew, And murmured there The forms of prayer And thanks and praise In the ancient ways, And heard read out During August drought...
Why is there in the least touch of her hands More grace than other women's lips bestow, If love is but a slave in fleshly bands Of flesh to flesh, wherever love may go? ...