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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
FIRST AND LAST KISS.
Thy lips are quiet, and thine eyes are still;
Cold, colorless, and sad thy placid face;
Thy form has only now the statue's grace;
My words wake not thy voice, nor can they fill
Thine eyes with light. Before fate's mighty will,
Our wills must bow; yet for a little space,
I sit with thee and death, in this lone place,
And hold thy hands that are so white and chill.
Cold, colorless, and sad thy placid face;
Thy form has only now the statue's grace;
My words wake not thy voice, nor can they fill
Thine eyes with light. Before fate's mighty will,
Our wills must bow; yet for a little space,
I sit with thee and death, in this lone place,
And hold thy hands that are so white and chill.
I always loved thee, though thou didst not know;
But well he knew whose wedded love thou wert:
Now thou art dead, I may raise up the fold
That hides thy face, and, o'er thee bending low,
For the first time and last before we part,
Kiss the curved lips — calm, beautiful, and cold!
But well he knew whose wedded love thou wert:
Now thou art dead, I may raise up the fold
That hides thy face, and, o'er thee bending low,
For the first time and last before we part,
Kiss the curved lips — calm, beautiful, and cold!
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |