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The Inventory, To Her Friend Post by :helloworld Category :Poems Author :Rachel Annand Taylor Date :November 2011 Read :841

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The Inventory, To Her Friend

I love all sumptuous things and delicate,
Ethereal matters richly paradised
In Art's proud certitudes. I love the great
Greek vases, carven ivory, subtilised
Arras of roses, Magians dyed on glass,
Graven chalcedony and sardonyx,
Nocturnes that through the nerves like fever pass,
Arthurian kings, Love on the crucifix,
All sweet mysterious verse, the Byzantine
Gold chambers of Crivelli, marble that flowers
In shy adoring angels, patterned vine
And lotos, and emblazoned Books of Hours,--
And you, whose smiling eyes to ironies
Reduce both me and mine idolatries

(The end)
Rachel Annand Taylor's poem: Inventory, To Her Friend

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Comfort (1) Comfort (1)

Comfort (1)
II sang the Dolorous Stroke of Disillusion, Yet never have I broken faith with Joy:Flame-broidered trance and starless cold confusion Of slain and flying dreams shall not destroyThe radiant oath to that bright Suzerain Whose lightning-lovely succour ambushed liesEven in the most impossible strait of pain. Mystical paradox, divine surpriseOf rapture! By intensities alone Their spirits enter in to exultationFor whom the burning winds of their sad zone Bear down the Dove of the Imagination,Who suffer superbly,

Women Of Tanagra Women Of Tanagra

Women Of Tanagra
Have these forgotten they are toys of Death That in his sad aphelions of desireThey still regret the joy that perisheth, And Spring's great reveries that exceed and tire,--Faintly accusing Love's unmercied yokes With almost wanton grace, the craft and artOf precious frailty that with subtle strokes Of sweetness finds the core of Passion's heart?They carry fans and mirrors, or make fast The mournful flute-like cadence of a veil.Slight fans that winnowed souls, mirrors that glassed The