Poem by Arthur William Symons

Hands

The little hands too soft and white
To have known more laborious hours
Than those which die upon a night
Of kindling wine and fading flowers;

The little hands that I have kissed,
Finger by finger, to the tips,
And delicately about each wrist
Have set a bracelet with my lips;

Dear soft white little morbid hands,
Mine all one night, with what delight
Shall I recall in other lands,
Dear hands, that you were mine one night! 

1. Sponsa Dei
2. Body’s Blood
3. Behind the Scenes: Empire
4. To Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows
5. Time and Beauty

Archibald MacLeish Hands ("Emperors, prophets, priests, named one by one")

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