Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

O
LY not,
Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure;  Fold me thy wings,
I prithee, yet and stay:      For my heart no measure      Knows, nor other

RK to me is the earth
Dark to me are the heavens
Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars
Desolate are the streets

RE is no laughter in the natural world Of beast or fish or bird, though no sad doubt Of their futurity to them unfurled Has dared to check the mirth-compelling shout
The lion roars his solemn thunder out To the sleeping woods
The eagle s...

How beautiful is life--the physical joy of sense and breathing;
The glory of the world which has found speech and speaks to us;
The robe which summer throws in June round the white bones of winter;
The new birth of each day, itself ...

A
AR
GO A year ago I too was proud of May,
I too delighted in the blackbird's song

EN weeks of sea, and twice seven days of
Upon the huge Atlantic, and once
We ride into still water and the
Of a sweet evening, screen'd by either

AY, all day,
I rode upon the down,
With hounds and horsemen, a brave
On this side in its glory lay the sea,

A little honey
Ay, a little sweet,
A little pleasure when the years were young,
A joyous measure trod by dancing feet,

I
LD I had thy courage, dear, to face This bankruptcy of love, and greet despair With smiling eyes and unconcerned embrace, And these few words of banter at “dull care
” I would that I could sing and comb my
Like thee the morning th...

When is life other than a tragedy,
Whether it is played in tears from the first scene,
In sable robes and grief's mute pageantry,
For loves that died ere they had ever been,

A second warning, nor unheeded
Yet The thought appealed to me as no strange thing,
Pure though I was, that love impure had set Its seal on that fair woman in her Spring
Her broken beauty did not mar her grace In form or spirit

(In the antechamber of Heaven
Satan walks alone
Angels in groups conversing
)Satan