Love-Sonnets by Evelyn Douglas [i.e. J. E. Barlas] |
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| XVI. |
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| XX. |
| XXI. |
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| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
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| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. | XXXVI.
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| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
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| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
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| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
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| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
 | Love-Sonnets |  |
44
XXXVI.
[A cut rose set in water, poor sick wraith]
A cut rose set in water, poor sick wraith,Survives a little while in hectic bloom,
A ghostly body in a living tomb:
E'en as a love-sick maid it lingereth
Feeding its passion with protracted death;
While through the very wound that wrought its doom
It draws unnatural nourishment: the room
Is long time fragrant with its dying breath.
How slow life droops away cut off from thee,
But cannot wither, though inch by inch it dies!
Torn cruelly from love's mutilated tree,
Through my heart's wound I drink what grief supplies
Of waterish sustenance, salt as the sea;
And all the night is heavy with my sighs.
| Love-Sonnets | |