Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsAmor Mysticus
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Amor Mysticus Post by :newbizhelp Category :Poems Author :Helen Hay Whitney Date :October 2011 Read :1692

Click below to download : Amor Mysticus (Format : PDF)

Amor Mysticus

Not you, nor all the gauds that Fate bestows,
Can make me swerve so little from my dream.
Across my veil of mystery you seem
Perhaps a little dearer than the rose,
Perhaps more fair than the long light that flows
Between the lids of twilight. But the gleam
Of iris on the breast of wisdom's stream
Is of a radiance that no rival knows.

My heart is not my heart, or it might chance
To sorrow for the sorrow in your tears;
My soul is locked against all circumstance
Of life or love or death or heaven or hell;
I have no place for laughter in my years,
No room where little, little love might dwell.

(The end)
Helen Hay Whitney's poem: Amor Mysticus

If you like this book please share to your friends :

The Pattern Of The Earth The Pattern Of The Earth

The Pattern Of The Earth
The pattern of the earth, so wonderful, Is, more than myrtle, very dear to me. Across the avenue of limes I see A little mist by ghosts made magical, Tossing across the hills, more beautiful Than the deep eyes of amber women, free Of shame and of disdain, on some far sea Swept by trade-winds the sun makes lyrical. There is no air the mind may not recall, Blown from the violet-beds of Greece; and all The moons who drop their shattered petals here Live from the days which hid Semiramis.

The Last Gift The Last Gift

The Last Gift
What shall I give to her who will not care If I give soul or roses, will not know How that, for sweets she'll spend, light smiles she'll sow, I will reap bitter tears? If she could wear Those tears as stars to sparkle in her hair! What shall I give? I have not fall'n so low I may not lay one gift before I go Upon the altar of my heart's despair. She will not know; yet, in my love a king, I must be worthy of my crown and