27.04.2012, 18:03
To My Love
"Paint me," you said, "a poem; give to me
A breathing thought that I may keep to kiss!"
While that low laugh that eye a mandate is
Nestled upon your lips. Call memory
To that fair moment when you heard my plea,
And in the tumult of my arms' warm bliss,
Like a frail flowered that is crushed amiss.
You thrilled to frenzied life exultantly,
And all your body pulsed with love's desire!
Can I in words that perfect hour rehearse,
Or write the vehemence of veins of fire?
My lips would only kiss - and you require
From my heart's royal hoard one pallid verse -
The grey, cold ashes left on passion's pyre!
"Paint me," you said, "a poem; give to me
A breathing thought that I may keep to kiss!"
While that low laugh that eye a mandate is
Nestled upon your lips. Call memory
To that fair moment when you heard my plea,
And in the tumult of my arms' warm bliss,
Like a frail flowered that is crushed amiss.
You thrilled to frenzied life exultantly,
And all your body pulsed with love's desire!
Can I in words that perfect hour rehearse,
Or write the vehemence of veins of fire?
My lips would only kiss - and you require
From my heart's royal hoard one pallid verse -
The grey, cold ashes left on passion's pyre!