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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
VIII
Then, regarding him seriously, she continues:
Could I recall every joy that befell me
There in the past with its anguish and bliss,
Here in my heart it hath whispered to tell me,—
They were no joys like this.
There in the past with its anguish and bliss,
Here in my heart it hath whispered to tell me,—
They were no joys like this.
Were it not well if our love could forget them,
Veiling the Was with the dawn of the Is?
Dead with the past we should never regret them,
Being no joys like this.
Veiling the Was with the dawn of the Is?
Dead with the past we should never regret them,
Being no joys like this.
Now they are gone and the Present stands speechful,
Ardent of word and of look and of kiss,—
What though we know that their eyes are beseechful!—
They were no joys like this.
Ardent of word and of look and of kiss,—
What though we know that their eyes are beseechful!—
They were no joys like this.
Were it not well to have more of the spirit,
Living high Futures this earthly must miss?
Less of the flesh, with the Past pining near it?
Knowing no joys like this!
Living high Futures this earthly must miss?
Less of the flesh, with the Past pining near it?
Knowing no joys like this!
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |