English poetry

British Poets Х Biographies Х Poems About Х Random Poem Х
The Rating of Poets Х The Rating of Poems

Poem by Arthur William Symons


The Last Memory


When I am old, and think of the old days,
And warm my hands before a little blaze,
Having forgotten love, hope, fear, desire,
I shall see, smiling out of the pale fire,
One face, mysterious and exquisite;
And I shall gaze, and ponder over it,
Wondering, was it Leonardo wrought
That stealthy ardency, where passionate thought
Burns inward, a revealing flame, and glows
To the last ecstasy, which is repose?
Was it Bronzino, whose Borghese eyes?
And, musing thus among my memories,
O unforgotten! you will come to seem,
As pictures do, remembered, some old dream.
And I shall think of you as something strange,
And beautiful, and full of helpless change,
Which I beheld and carried in my heart;
But you, I loved, will have become a part
Of the eternal mystery, and love
Like a dim pain; and I shall bend above
My little fire, and shiver, being cold,
When you are no more young, and I am old. 



Arthur William Symons


Arthur William Symons's other poems:
  1. Satiety
  2. Serata Di Fiesta
  3. Caprice
  4. The Price
  5. By The Pool Of The Third Rosses


Poem to print To Print Poem

694 Views



The Last Poems


To Russian version


–ейтинг@Mail.ru

English Poetry. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru