Whym Chow: Flame of Love By Michael Field [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. | XII. ABSENCE. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
 | Whym Chow: Flame of Love |  |
27
XII. ABSENCE.
Woe of thy little face behind the pane!
Woe of thy lovely, golden face!
Its music in the discord of a strain—
Parting, ay parting with its only love:
Thine eyes the jangle of wild beams,
Mid night they vainly would displace,
Riot wildest fears, and wilder dreams!
Woe of thy lovely, golden face!
Its music in the discord of a strain—
Parting, ay parting with its only love:
Thine eyes the jangle of wild beams,
Mid night they vainly would displace,
Riot wildest fears, and wilder dreams!
Woe for thy little face left so forlorn!
Woe of its weft and woof untwined,
The stuff of all its gold aimless and torn,
Dropping, ay dropping from its loom away!
All its devotion unconfined:
Distress of thy gold face—ah, well-a-day!
Woe of its weft and woof untwined,
The stuff of all its gold aimless and torn,
Dropping, ay dropping from its loom away!
All its devotion unconfined:
Distress of thy gold face—ah, well-a-day!
Woe for thy little face in solitude,
Woe of its lost, unfolded looks!—
The wonder, shattered by disquietude...
Clearly, ay, clearly sudden, the one thing,
Beyond what any wonder brooks,
That love was gone, was gone a wandering!
Woe of its lost, unfolded looks!—
The wonder, shattered by disquietude...
Clearly, ay, clearly sudden, the one thing,
Beyond what any wonder brooks,
That love was gone, was gone a wandering!
Past all the sorrow of that severance now,
Past, and for evermore forgot;
Perfect the music; seamless, little Chow,
Woven, enwoven thy gold threads of life;
Unshepherded, unsheltered not
Thy love-looks with a wilderness at strife!
Past, and for evermore forgot;
Perfect the music; seamless, little Chow,
Woven, enwoven thy gold threads of life;
Unshepherded, unsheltered not
Thy love-looks with a wilderness at strife!
| Whym Chow: Flame of Love | |