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31 |
May seven tears in every week,
Touch the hollow of you cheek,
That I - signed with such a dew -
For the Lion’s share may sue
Of roses ever curled
Round the may-pole of the world.
Heavy riddles lie in this,
Sorrow’s sauce for every kiss.
2
May
Out of the chaos of my doubt
And the chaos of my art
I turn to you inevitably
As the needle to the pole
Turns . . . as the cold brain to the soul
Turns in its uncertainty;
So I turn and long for you;
So I long for you, and turn
To the love that through my chaos
Burns a truth,
And lights […]
2
May
Coarse as the sun is blatant, the high spinach-
Coloured elms, the lawns a yellow matting
Of tired grass, disgust me and the netting
Of summer boughs that creak at every touch.
Of this hot breeze distract me; live apart,
And bring no love to me from other fields: my hands
Are empty as my blind lop-sided heart!
Lop-sided, for self pity […]
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