SUN, the sun, I fain would be, Not the moon with stars coquetting, From each stone by sorcery Red and sweet May-roses getting. Lips of flame I fain would press On the icy souls of mortals, Till the world with eagerness Sought for wedlock churches' portals. And amid this sea of fire, Sacred waves of pure love seething, Upward borne, would I desire Slowly, softly, to cease breathing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE WILLOWS by FRANCIS BRET HARTE A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO by CHARLES LAMB A CAROL CLOSING SIXTY-NINE by WALT WHITMAN THE ONE WHITE ROSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE CONSOLATION by LEVI BISHOP SONNETS FOR NEW YORK CITY: 1. NEW YORK AT SUNRISE by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |