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Full Online Book HomePoemsAll That's Not Love . .
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All That's Not Love . . Post by :djjem Category :Poems Author :Alan Seeger Date :June 2011 Read :1424

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All That's Not Love . .

All that's not love is the dearth of my days,
The leaves of the volume with rubric unwrit,
The temple in times without prayer, without praise,
The altar unset and the candle unlit.

Let me survive not the lovable sway
Of early desire, nor see when it goes
The courts of Life's abbey in ivied decay,
Whence sometime sweet anthems and incense arose.

The delicate hues of its sevenfold rings
The rainbow outlives not; their yellow and blue
The butterfly sees not dissolve from his wings,
But even with their beauty life fades from them too.

No more would I linger past Love's ardent bounds
Nor live for aught else but the joy that it craves,
That, burden and essence of all that surrounds,
Is the song in the wind and the smile on the waves.

(The end)
Alan Seeger's poem: All That's Not Love . .

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Paris Paris

IFirst, London, for its myriads; for its height,Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite;But Paris for the smoothness of the pathsThat lead the heart unto the heart's delight. . . .Fair loiterer on the threshold of those daysWhen there's no lovelier prize the world displaysThan, having beauty and your twenty years,You have the means to conquer and the ways,And coming where the crossroads separateAnd down each vista glories and wonders wait,Crowning each path with pinnacles so fairYou know not which to choose, and hesitate --Oh, go to Paris. . . . In the midday gloomOf some old quarter take a little roomThat

La Nue La Nue

La Nue
Oft when sweet music undulated round, Like the full moon out of a perfumed seaThine image from the waves of blissful sound Rose and thy sudden light illumined me.And in the country, leaf and flower and air Would alter and the eternal shape emerge;Because they spoke of thee the fields seemed fair, And Joy to wait at the horizon's verge.The little cloud-gaps in the east that filled Gray afternoons with bits of tenderest blueWere windows in a palace pearly-silled That thy voluptuous traits came glimmering through.And in the city, dominant desire For which men toil within its prison-bars,I watched thy white