To L —
Thou that wast once my loved and loving friend,
A friend no more,
I had forgot thee quite,
Why hast thou come to trouble my
With memories ?
Oh !
I had clean made
Of all that time,
I had made haste to
My soul into red places, and to lightA torch of pleasure to burn up my night.
What I have woven hast thou come to rend ?
In silent acres of forgetful flowers,
Crowned as of old with happy daffodils,
Long time my wounded soul has been a-straying,
Alas! it has chanced now on sombre
Of hard remembrances and sad delaying,
Leaving green valleys for the bitter
Taken from the New Adelphi Library edition of 'Selected Poems' by Lord Arthur Douglas Published by Martin Secker
Page 5
Lord Alfred Douglas
Other author posts
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See what a mass of gems the city Upon her broad live bosom row on Rubies and emeralds and amethysts glow
The Ballad Of Saint Vitus
Vitus came tripping over the When all the leaves in the trees were green, Through the green meadows he did On the day he was full seventeen
The Image Of Death
I carved an image coloured like the night, Winged with huge wings, stern-browed and menacing, With hair caught back, and diademed like a king The left hand held a sceptre, and the
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I have been through the woods And the leaves were falling, Summer had crept away, And the birds were not calling