Section: «Poems»

Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings: artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.); a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Xv

Anon, ere yet his pleasure was awareOf other presence with him in that place,A growing murmur in the jubilant air,With hum of voices gathering..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Xix

And still the music sounded near and near,Loud and more loud on Adrian's nuptial way,Preluding soft, as 'twere a dulcimer,But gathering strength and..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Xiii

A heritage for ever. Such a sleepCame upon Adrian and such a dream,As in the shade he lay a weary heap.For, while he rested, still it seemed to himHe..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Xii

He slept as only under the free heavenIt is given to sleep, a slumber shadowlessAs the broad river to whose banks at evenThat spirit comes which..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Xi

So in his agony at noon he came,On the third day, to where without the wallsStood San Lorenzo with its front of flame,Where mourners wait the..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet X

But with full daylight finding no relief,Though he had spent the newness of his fearsAnd looked with altered eyes upon his grief,For sorrow often..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Viii

And so it was that, sitting ever thusDumb to all speech of those that knew her woeAnd bare with her sole sorrow in the house,And ever watching with..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Vii

But where he fared and how, it matters not.He and his mourning ere a month had runWere out of mind with all and clean forgot,Kinsman and friend and..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Vi

So he departed angry and in haste,A bitter wanderer on the ways of life:He cared not whither so he found a feastSpread for his hunger which should..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet V

Until it happened, as such things will be,That she, who had a proud man for her spouseNone the less loving that unloved was he,Must bear a child, the..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Ix

Thus Adrian learned it. And behold, his heart,Which he had hardened against all dismay,And wrapped up secretly and laid apartAs something which..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Iv

But Adrian, who was young and all athirstFor human joy, and turbulent and strong,Grew discontent with her despairs and curst,Nor spared he her the..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Iii

Matron was she of a great Roman house,And wed in youth to one she might not love;Her birth, her fortune, her name luminous,Such as all noblest..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Ii

'Twas thus with my Natalia, suppliant soul,Who loved young Adrian to her heart's despite,And loved him dearly, yet could not cajoleHer fears of ill..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet I

Oh! woe is me for beauty idly blown!And woe for passionate youth and joys that wait!And woe for foolish love that is undoneBy woman's fear, and..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

My Only Title

My only title to her graceIs her sad, too silent face;All my right to call her mineThe twin tears that on it shine,Tears that tell of griefs long..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Moonstruck

I have quarrelled with the Moon. I loved her once,As all boys love one face supremely fair.I had heard her praised, and I too, happy dunce,Let my..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Mitigations

My prison has its pleasures. Every dayAt breakfast--time, spare meal of milk and bread,Sparrows come trooping in familiar wayWith head aside..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Many Are Called

Many are called, dear heart, to happiness,But few are chosen, even for a wild short year.Love calls us from our sleep, and we make stressTo rise and..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love’s Likenings

He.To what, love, shall I liken thee?Thou, methinks, shalt firstly beA blue flower with nodding bellsIn the hollow of a tree.When the wind blows..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love Rides Disguised

What name is his, thy knight's? Nay, ask it not.If fate should hear thee, child, what griefs might come.Love rides disguised. He fears a..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love Me A Little

Love me a little, love me as thou wilt,Whether a draught it be of passionate winePoured with both hands divine,Or just a cup of water spiltOn dying..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love Is Master Still

Since that it may not be,The thing my soul desires,And that Love’s tenderer firesAre doomed to loss and Time’s sterility,Ours be it this one..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love Is Best

Dare all things for Love's sake, since love is best,Of Fate ask nothing, rather by your deedsRebuke it for its niggard ways unblest,And trust to Love..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love In The Summer Hills

Love in the summer hills,With youth to mock at ills,And kisses sweet to cheatOur idle tears away.What else has Time in store,Till Life shall close..

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt