2 min read
Слушать(AI)Lovers
I thought, because we had been friends so long,
That I knew all your dear lips dared intend Before they dawned to speech.
Our thoughts would blend,
I dreamed, like memories that faintly throng.
Your voice dwelt in me like an olden song.
Petal,
I thought, from petal I could rend The blossom of your soul, and at the end Find still the same sweet fragrance.
I was wrong.
Last evening in our eyes love brimmed to birth;
Our friendship faded, lost in passion's mist.
We had been strangers only!
Here, close-caught Against my heart the dim face I had sought So long!
And now the only thing on earth— Your piteous mouth, a-tremble to be kissed!
Arthur Henry Adams
Arthur Henry Adams (6 June 1872 – 4 March 1936) was a journalist and author. He started his career in New Zealand, though he spent most of it in
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
To You
SO you have come at last And we nestle, each in each, As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach; Merged in each other quite,
The Perfect Present
SO I have kissed you And this hour is mine Its light along the level future lasts, It crowns a drab eternity of Pasts
In Hyde Park
The white mist walks between the In silver gown; Her mystic floating The branches drown;
Sydney
In her grey majesty of ancient stone She queens it proudly, though the sun's caress Her piteous cheeks, ravished of bloom, confess, And her dark eyes his bridegroom glance have know Robed in her flowing parks, serene, alone, She fro...
