Poem by Arthur Davison Ficke

Serenade in Firelight

Sit here where I could touch your hand If that should be my sudden will:
Among the shadows where we wait
I shall not stir.

Sit here where I could feel your lips If they should breathe the faintest sound:
As the slow-moving midnight slips
I ask no speech.

Sit here where I could lay my head Wearily down upon your knees:
I shall sit upright as I watch
The tangled fire.

1. Like Him Whose Spirit in the Blaze of Noon
2. Among Shadows
3. Opus 67
4. Fate, with Devoted and Incessant Care
5. Portrait of an Old Woman

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