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").
An Unwritten Tragedy
Ho, ye that thirst beside the running stream!Love is a running stream, whose waters flowUpon the earth, and who would drink thereofMust bend him..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
An Inscription
At this fair oak table satWhilom he our Laureate,Poet, handicraftsman, sage,Light of our Victorian age,William Morris, whose art's planLaid its lines..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
An Autumn Sonnet
These little presents of your tenderness,Although less grand a gift than was your love,Are dear to me in this October stressOf wind and war and..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Ambition
I had ambition once. Like SolomonI asked for wisdom, deeming wisdom fair,And with much pains a little knowledge wonOf Nature's cruelty and Man's..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
All White Continued
Ah, beautiful sweet woman, made in vain,Since Launcelot is dead and only I,Alas for this new world of recreant men,Remain in age Love's creed to..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
All White
All white, all light, all beautiful she stands,Love in her eyes, a glory round her brows,Blanched as the lilies chaste in her chaste hands.Even so..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Alfred Tennyson
Tears, idle tears! Ah, who shall bid us weep,Now that thy lyre, O prophet, is unstrung?What voice shall rouse the dull world from its sleepAnd lead..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Adonis
The gods did love Adonis, and for thisHe died, ere time had furrowed his young cheek.For Aphrodité slew him with a kiss.He sighed one sigh, as though..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Across The Pampas
Dost thou remember, oh, dost thou remember,Here as we sit at home and take our rest,How we went out one morning on a ventureIn the West?Hast thou..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Xii
'Tis ended truly, truly as was best.Love is a little thing, for one short day;You could not make it your life's only quest,Nor watch the poor corpse..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Xi
Wild words I write, and lettered in deep pain,To lay in your loved hand as love's farewell.It is the thought we shall not meet againNerves me to..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: X
Love, ere I go, forgive me each least wrong,Each trouble I unwittingly have wrought.My heart, my life, my tears to thee belong;Yet have I erred..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Viii
I sue thee not for pity on my case.If I have sinned, the judgment has begun.My joy was but one day of all the days,And clouds have blotted it and hid..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Vii
What have I gained? A little charity?I never more may dare to fling a stoneAt any weakness, nor make boast that IA better fence or fortitude had..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Vi
What have I lost? The faith I had that RightMust surely prove itself than Ill more strong.For see how little my poor prayers had mightTo save me, at..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: V
Whate'er the cost to me, with this farewell,I shall not see thee, speak to thee again.If some on Earth must feel the pangs of Hell,Mine only be it..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Ix
The day draws nigh, methinks, when I could stayCalm in thy presence with no dream of ill,When, having put all earthliness away,I could be near thee..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Iv
Should ever the day come when this drear worldShall read the secret which so close I hold,Should taunts and jeers at my bowed head be hurled,And all..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Iii
Where is the pride for which I once was blamed,My vanity which held its head so high?Who would believe them, seeing me thus tamed,Thus subject, here..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: Ii
Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.Let me a little longer hold thy hand.Too soon it is to bid me to forgetThe joys I was so late to..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Woman’s Sonnets: I
If the past year were offered me again,With choice of good and ill before me set.Should I be wiser for the bliss and painAnd dare to choose that we..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Wedding March
Clash your cymbals, maids, to--day.Chaunt the praise of Cynthia.You, her virgins, yokeless, free,Young Time's choice, his brides--to--be.Nymphs in..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Vision Of Folly
I saw one rushing madly in pursuitOf Liberty. With frenzied steps he strode.Old laws and customs with disdainful footHe spurned beneath him in a mire..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Summer In Tuscany
Do you remember, Lucy,How, in the days gone byWe spent a summer together,A summer in Tuscany,In the chestnut woods by the river,You and the rest and..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
A Storm In Summer
Nature that day a woman was in weakness,A woman in her impotent high wrath.At the dawn we watched it, a low cloud half seenUnder the sun; an innocent..
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt