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Love And Death Post by :Chris_Owen Category :Poems Author :Helen Hay Whitney Date :October 2011 Read :3270

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Love And Death

I can believe that my Beloved dies,
That all her virtue, all her youth shall fail,
And life, her rosy life, grow cold and pale,
To bloom again in braver Paradise.
I must believe that death shall close her eyes,
And hold her heart beyond a heavy veil,
Where silences surround her spirit frail
And waste the form where all my loving lies.

Ah, God! but no. And is my love so weak?
Her heart may pause, may falter and grow still,
But not her laugh, the color in her cheek--
That may not fade; the catch that lifts her breath,
Sobbing against my heart. Essay your will--
These are too dear to fill your grave, O Death!

(The end)
Helen Hay Whitney's poem: Love And Death

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The Message The Message

The Message
When one has heard the message of the Rose, For what faint other calling shall he care? Dark broodings turn to find their lonely lair; The vain world keeps her posturing and pose. He, with his crimson secret, which bestows Heaven on his heart, to Heaven lifts his prayer, And knows all glory trembling through the air As on triumphal journeying he goes. So through green woodlands in the twilight dim, Led by the faint, pale argent of a star, What though to others it is weary

Flowers Of Ice Flowers Of Ice

Flowers Of Ice
The lights within the ice-floes are our flowers, Lily and daffodil and violet. Beneath these monstrous suns that never set Tremble soft rainbows, young as Earth's first hours, Ancient as Time. No balm of gentle showers Make for their growth; for them, gigantic, met The immemorial ice and sun, to get Such blossoms--pledge of Beauty's bravest powers. Violet and pale grass-green, the Spring-time dies In the soft South. To us, in this grim world, Daring with frozen heart and tearless eyes The North's white sanctity, Fate idly