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
Другие работы автора
The City Of The Soul II
What shall we do, my soul, to please the King Seeing he hath no pleasure in the dance, And hath condemned the honeyed utterance Of silver flutes and mouths made round to sing Along the wall red roses climb and cling,
Perkin Warbeck
At Turney in Flanders I was Fore-doomed to splendour and sorrow, For I was a king when they cut the corn, And they strangle me
Vae Victis!
Here in this The summer still lingers, And Autumn's brown fingers So busy the while With the leaves in the north; Are scarcely put In this land where the sun still glows like an ember,
The Green River
I know a green grass path that leaves the field, And like a running river, winds along Into a leafy wood where is no throng Of birds at noon-day, and no soft throats yield Their music to the moon The place is sealed, An unclaimed so...