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Poem by Stephen Phillips


To a Lost Love


I cannot look upon thy grave,
Though there the rose is sweet:
Better to hear the long wave wash
These wastes about my feet!

Shall I take comfort? Dost thou live
A spirit, though afar,
With a deep hush about thee, like
The stillness round a star?

Oh, thou art cold! In that high sphere
Thou art a thing apart,
Losing in saner happiness
This madness of the heart.

And yet, at times, thou still shalt feel
A passing breath, a pain;
Disturb'd, as though a door in heaven
Had oped and closed again.

And thou shalt shiver, while the hymns,
The solemn hymns, shall cease;
A moment half remember me:
Then turn away to peace.

But oh, for evermore thy look,
Thy laugh, thy charm, thy tone,
Thy sweet and wayward earthliness,
Dear trivial things, are gone!

Therefore I look not on thy grave,
Though there the rose is sweet;
But rather hear the loud wave wash
These wastes about my feet. 



                      Stephen Phillips


Stephen Phillips's other poems:
  1. A Dream
  2. The Kaiser and Belgium
  3. Poems
  4. Orestes
  5. The Shirker


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Ernest Dowson To a Lost Love ("I seek no more to bridge the gulf that lies")
  • Lewis Morris To a Lost Love ("COLD snowdrops which the shrinking new-born year")

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