Romance
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed, Scented and warm against my beating breast; To whisper soft and quivering your name, And drink the passion burning in your frame; To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek, And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak Love words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words, Melodious like notes of mating birds; To hear you ask if I shall love always, And myself answer:
Till the end of days; To feel your easeful sigh of happiness When on your trembling lips I murmur:
Yes; It is so sweet.
We know it is not true. What matters it?
The night must shed her dew. We know it is not true, but it is sweet — The poem with this music is complete.
Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.
The lyrical form of this poem is couplets.
Claude McKay
Other author posts
Birds of Prey
Their shadow dims the sunshine of our day, As they go lumbering across the sky, Squawking in joy of feeling safe on high, Beating their heavy wings of owlish gray
I Know My Soul
I plucked my soul out of its secret place, And held it to the mirror of my eye, To see it like a star against the sky, A twitching body quivering in space,
The Tired Worker
O whisper, O my soul The afternoon Is waning into evening, whisper soft Peace,
Rest in Peace
No more for you the city's thorny ways, The ugly corners of the Negro belt; The miseries and pains of these harsh days By you will never, never again be felt No more, if still you wander, will you meet With nights of unabating bitterness...
