Modern Love XXXIII: In Paris, at the Louvre
‘In Paris, at the Louvre, there have I seen The sumptuously-feathered angel pierce Prone Lucifer, descending. Looked he fierce, Showing the fight a fair one? Too serene! The young Pharsalians did not disarray Less
Modern Love IX: He Felt the Wild Beast
He felt the wild beast in him betweenwhiles So masterfully rude, that he would grieve To see the helpless delicate thing receive His guardianship through certain dark defiles. Had he not teeth to rend,
Modern Love XLVIII: Their Sense
Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, Destroyed by subleties these women are! More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar Utterly this fair garden we might win. Behold! I
Modern Love VIII: Yet It Was Plain She Struggled
Yet it was plain she struggled, and that salt Of righteous feeling made her pitiful. Poor twisting worm, so queenly beautiful! Where came the cleft between us? whose the fault? My tears are on
Modern Love XXVI: Love Ere He Bleeds
Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies, Has earth beneath his wings: from reddened eve He views the rosy dawn. In vain they weave The fatal web below while far he flies.
Modern Love XXVII: Distraction is the Panacea
Distraction is the panacea, Sir! I hear my oracle of Medicine say. Doctor! that same specific yesterday I tried, and the result will not deter A second trial. Is the devil’s line Of golden
Modern Love XXIV: The Misery Is Greater
The misery is greater, as I live! To know her flesh so pure, so keen her sense, That she does penance now for no offence, Save against Love. The less can I forgive! The
Modern Love XXXIV: Madam Would Speak With Me
Madam would speak with me. So, now it comes: The Deluge or else Fire! She’s well, she thanks My husbandship. Our chain on silence clanks. Time leers between, above his twiddling thumbs. Am I
Modern Love XLIII: Mark Where the Pressing Wind
Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, Its skeleton shadow on the broad-backed wave! Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave; Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, And dart their
Modern Love VII: She Issues Radiant
She issues radiant from her dressing-room, Like one prepared to scale an upper sphere: By stirring up a lower, much I fear How deftly that oiled barber lays his bloom That long-shanked dapper Cupid
Modern Love XXXVII: Along the Garden Terrace
Along the garden terrace, under which A purple valley (lighted at its edge By smoky torch-flame on the long cloud-ledge Whereunder dropped the chariot), glimmers rich, A quiet company we pace, and wait The
Modern Love XIII: I Play for Seasons, Not Eternities
‘I play for Seasons; not Eternities!’ Says Nature, laughing on her way. ‘So must All those whose stake is nothing more than dust!’ And lo, she wins, and of her harmonies She is full
Song in the Songless
They have no song, the sedges dry, And still they sing. It is within my breast they sing, As I pass by. Within my breast they touch a string, They wake a sigh. There
Modern Love XXXI: This Golden Head
This golden head has wit in it. I live Again, and a far higher life, near her. Some women like a young philosopher; Perchance because he is diminutive. For woman’s manly god must not
Dirge in Woods
A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree