He laid his dear face next to mine, His eyes aflame burned close to mine, His heart to mine, his lips to mine, O he was mine, all mine, all mine. Drunk with old wine of love I was, Drunk as the wild bee in the grass: Yea, as the wild bee in the grass, Drunk, drunk, with wine of love I was! His lips of life to me were fief, Beneath him I was but a leaf Blown by the wind, a shaken leaf, Yea, as the sickle reaps the sheaf, My Grief! He reaped me as a gathered sheaf! His to be gathered, his the bliss, But not a greater bliss than this! All of the empty world to miss For wild redemption of his kiss! My Grief! For hell was lost, though heaven was brief Sphered in the universe of thy kiss— So cries to thee thy fallen leaf, Thy gathered sheaf, Lord of my life, my Pride, my Chief, My Grief! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR by THOMAS HARDY FOR LOVE'S SAKE, KISS ME ONCE AGAIN! by BEN JONSON THE LORD OF THOULOUSE; A LEGEND OF LANGUEDOC by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE TOUCH STONE by SAMUEL BISHOP THE MAID OF ARC; FOR M. S. M. by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIFTH ECLOGUE; TO HIS FRIEND CHRISTOPHER BROOKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |