Poetry is Beauty

From 'The Flower of Flame'
 

 Before I woke I knew her gone,

Though nothing high had stirred;

Now by the curtain inward blown

She stood, not seen, but heard,

Where faint moonlight dimmed or shone. . .

And neither spoke a word.

 One hand against her mouth she pressed,

But could not stanch its cry;

The other knocked upon her breast

Impotently. . . while I

Glared rigid, labouring, possessed,

And dared not ask her why.

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Aurelia

When within my arms I hold you,

Motionless in long surrender,

Then what love-words can I summon,

Tender as my heart is tender?

 

When within your arms you hold me,

And kisses speak your love unspoken,

Then my eyes with tears run over,

And my very heart is broken.

 

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From 'Sonnets to Aurelia'

When the proud World does most my world despise,

Vaunting what most my human heart must grieve,

Choosing what most I value to disprize,

Deriding that most which I most believe-

When the proud World, I say, does mostoffend

The artless passion of my patient heart,

Til I despair the morrow and make amend,

And before sunset from the sun would part:

Then in my ruin's hour remembrance brings

Faith to my doubt, to my intention grace,

Reminding me how feebly fall such stings

On one ...

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Depreciating her Beauty

I love not thy perfections. When I hear
Thy beauty blazoned, and the common tongue
Cheapening with vulgar praise a lip, an ear,
A cheek that I have prayed to;- When among
The loud world's gods my god is noised and sung,
Her wit applauded, even her taste, her dress,
Her each dear hidden marvel lightly flung
At the world's feet and stripped to nakedness-
Then I despise thy beauty utterly,
Crying, 'Be these your gods, O Israel!'
And I remember that on such a day
I found thee with eye...
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Nightingales

Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come,
And bright the fruitful valleys and streams, from whence
Ye learn your song:
 Where are those starry woods?  O might I wander there,
Among the flowers, which in that heavenly air
Bloom the year long!

Nay, barren are those mountains and spent those streams:
Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams,
A throe of the heart,
Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound,
No dying cadence nor long sigh can sound,
For al...
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Tonight I've Watched

Tonight I've watched
The moon and then
The Pleiades
go down.

The night is now
Half-gone; youth
goes; I am
In bed alone.

-- -

Although they are
Only breath, words
which I command
are immortal.
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Drinking Alone with the Moon

From a pot of wine among the flowers
I drank alone.  There was no one with me
Till raising my cup, I asked the bright moon
To bring me my shadow and make us three.
Alas, the moon was unable to drink
And my shadow tagged me vacantly;
But still for a while I had these friends 
To cheer me through the end of spring.
I sang.  The moon encouraged me.
I danced. My shadow tumbled after.
As long as I knew, we were born companions.
And then I was drunk and we lost one another.
Shall go...
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Diary Entry

 As the autumn season approaches, the tree-tops near the pond, the bushes near the stream, are dyed in varying tints whose colors grow deeper in the mellow light of evening.  The murmuring sound of waters mingles all the night through with the never-ceasing recitation of sutras which appeal more to one's heart as the breezes grow cooler.
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The cuckoo sings on the same branch
With voice unchanged,
That you shall know.
-- -
The night passes,
We dream no faintest dreams-
There is no night for that
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