1 min read
Слушать(AI)The Lute And The Lyre
Deep desire, that pierces heart and spirit to the root,
Finds reluctant voice in verse that yearns like soaring fire,
Takes exultant voice when music holds in high pursuit Deep desire.
Keen as burns the passion of the rose whose buds respire,
Strong as grows the yearning of the blossom toward the fruit,
Sounds the secret half unspoken ere the deep tones tire.
Slow subsides the rapture that possessed love's flower-soft lute,
Slow the palpitation of the triumph of the lyre:
Still the soul feels burn, a flame unslaked though these be mute, Deep desire.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne (5 April 1837 – 10 April 1909) was an English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic. He wrote several novels and col
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Dead Love
Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark, White as a dead stark-stricken dove: None that pass by him pause to mark Dead love His heart, that strained and yearned and
Past Days
I Dead and gone, the days we had together, Shadow-stricken all the lights that Round them, flown as flies the blown foam's feather, Dead and gone
The Way Of The Wind
The wind's way in the deep sky's None may measure, as none can How the heart in her shows the swallow The wind's way Hope nor fear can avail to
Change
But now life's face beholden Seemed bright as heaven's bare With hope of gifts withholden But now From time's full-flowering Each bud spake bloom to embolden Love's heart, and seal his vow
