| AFTER LOVE There is no magic any more, We meet as other people do, You work no miracle for me Nor I for you. You were the wind and I the sea -- There is no splendor any more, I have grown listless as the pool Beside the shore. But though the pool is safe from storm And from the tide has found surcease, It grows more bitter than the sea, For all its peace. --Sara Teasdale ------------------- SWANS Night is over the park, and a few brave stars Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold, The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold. We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place, And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head; How still you are -- your gaze is on my face -- We watch the swans and never a word is said. --Sara Teasdale ------------------- SPRING RAIN I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain. I remembered a darkened doorway Where we stood while the storm swept by, Thunder gripping the earth And lightning scrawled on the sky. The passing motor busses swayed, For the street was a river of rain, Lashed into little golden waves In the lamp light's stain. With the wild spring rain and thunder My heart was wild and gay; Your eyes said more to me that night Than your lips would ever say. . . . I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain. --Sara Teasdale ------------------- HOW DO I LOVE THEE? - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. --Elizabeth Barrett Browning ------------------- WHEN PASSION�S TRANCE IS OVERPAST When passion's trance is overpast, If tenderness and truth could last, Or live, whilst all wild feelings keep Some mortal slumber, dark and deep, I should not weep, I should not weep! It were enough to feel, to see, Thy soft eyes gazing tenderly, And dream the rest -- and burn and be The secret food of fires unseen, Couldst thou but be as thou hast been. After the slumber of the year The woodland violets reappear; All things revive in field or grove, And sky and sea, but two, which move And form all others, life and love. --Percy Bysshe Shelley |
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