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Madison Julius Cawein (Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн) Lilith Yea, there are some who always seek The love that lasts an hour; And some who in love's language speak, Yet never know his power. Of such was I, who knew not what Sweet mysteries may rise Within the heart when 't is its lot To love and realize. Of such was I, ah me! till, lo, Your face on mine did gleam, And changed that world, I used to know, Into an evil dream. That world wherein, on hill and plain, Great blood-red poppies bloomed, Their hot hearts thirsty for the rain, And sleepily perfumed. Above, below, on every part A crimson shadow lay, As if the red sun streamed athwart And sunset was alway. I know not how, I know not when, I only know that there She met me in the haunted glen, A poppy in her hair. Her face seemed fair as Mary's is, That knows no sin or wrong; Her presence filled the silences As music fills a song. And she was clad like the Mother of God, As 't were for Christ's sweet sake, But when she moved and where she trod A hiss went of a snake. Though seeming sinless, till I die I shall not know for sure Why to my soul she seemed a lie And otherwise than pure. Nor why I kissed her soon and late And for her felt desire, While loathing of her passion ate Into my soul like fire. Was it because my soul could tell That, like the poppy-flower, She had no soul? a thing of Hell, That o'er it had no power. Or was it that your love at last My soul so long had craved, From the sweet sin that held me fast At that last moment saved? Madison Julius Cawein's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1208 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |