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").
Good-Bye
Fools! must we ever quarrel with our fate,Too lateReading the worth of what we did despise,And wiseAt the journey's end to weep it scarce begunWhen..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
God Is My Witness
God knows, 'twas not with a fore--reasoned planI left the easeful dwellings of my peace,And sought this combat with ungodly Man,And ceaseless still..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Glad Bird, I Do Bewail Thee
Glad bird, I do bewail thee,Thy song it was so sweetThat Earth looked up to hail theeTill wings grew to her feet.But, ah! thy mate is lying deadAmong..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Gibraltar
SEVEN weeks of sea, and twice seven days of stormUpon the huge Atlantic, and once moreWe ride into still water and the calmOf a sweet evening..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Giacinta
Giacinta sat upon the garden wallAmong the autumn lilies, and let fallTheir crimson petals on her lover's head,And laughed because her little hands..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Ghost Of The Beautiful Past
Ghost of the beautiful past, of the days long gone, of a queen, of a fair sweet woman.Ghost with the passionate eyes, how proud, yet not too proud to..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Friendship’s Black And White
Romance is writ for me with many namesOf fair loved faces, each page a designBlazoned and tinctured, this with saffron flamesEnshrining fancy, that..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
For Thee
What woes are thereI would not choose to bearFor thy dear sake?Curses were blest, the acheOf sorrow's scourging and grief's crown of care.All pain..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Farewell Dark Gaol
Farewell, dark gaol. You hold some better heartsThan in this savage world I thought to find.I do not love you nor the fraudulent artsBy which men..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxviii
``I do not doubt it. You have a look of truthWhich is beyond suspicion. But the worldIs as full of knaves as fools. You have your youthAnd I..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxvii
She seemed to change as if with a change of the wind,And growing serious sighed, ``Now look,'' she said,``You think me a mad woman..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxvi
She watched me curiously with mocking eyes,Yet tenderly, till once again her mirthPrevailed with her, and quick in feigned surpriseThrusting me back..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxv
``Silence. I will not listen!'' ``And for what?''She added strangely, in a softer mood.``You see I am not angry. Do you..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxix
``We shall be friends. How friends? You must know me first.What? Like the Pont Neuf? Should you wish it? Well,None ever yet repented it who..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxiv
She saw me in an instant, and stopped shortWith a sudden change of look from fierce to gay.Her black eyes gleamed with triumph as they caught,Like..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxiii
Such was the legend. I had read it throughTwice ere I thought of thinking what it meant.And as I turned with a sigh because I knewThat I alone..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxii
I had stopped to read a handbill of the play,Caught by the lettering. Thus it was I read,``Programme of this night's pieces, SaturdayThe..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxxi
The booths were shut. The Fair was at an end,And the crowd gone with multitudinous feetNoisily home, or lingering still to spendAt Café doors or at..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxx
Thus was my soul enfranchised. But anon,With courage fired to full--fledged enterprise,And pushing still the vantage I had won,I sought communion..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxviii
The summer I had passed in my own fashionHigh in the Alps, a proselyte to toil.I was released and free, and spent my passionOn the bare rocks as on a..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxvii
At such a time indeed of youth's first morn,There is a heaving of the soul in pain,A mighty labour as of joys unborn,Which grieves it and disquiets..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxvi
I linger on the threshold of my youth.If you could see me now as then I was,A fair--faced frightened boy with eyes of truthScared at the world yet..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxv
My childhood, then, had passed a mysteryShrouded by death, my boyhood a shut thing.The passion of my soul as it grew freeWith growing youth, a bird..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxix
A glorious triumph. On that day of daysWhen, standing on the summit's utmost edgeOf my first mountain--top, I viewed the mazeWhich I had travelled..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Xxiv
Thus through these griefs I had been set apart,As for a double priesthood. Life to me,In those first moments when I probed my heart,Less an..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt