Some Poems
We started speaking,
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes.
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
"Listen," I said. "It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as a horse galloping past in the night."
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, "I cannot go: all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever."
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness. "If it stops, I shall die."
.....The Meeting by Katherine Mansfield
Dawn turned to dusk and they found each other.
The sun went down leaving all of it's glory on their burned skin.
He had fallen asleep and she...
she went to the sea.
She glances behind- tenderness swells deep within her.
His image gets smaller and smaller-
Soon his presence just a remembrance.
She sees him in the distance-- he is as still as a starry night.
Faintly his hand beckons her.
She races towards him,
grabs it greedily- aching for his soft caress.
She wanted to love him.
She wanted him to love her.
She pulls him close to her chest and rests his head there,
it's so peaceful, so safe.
Time stood still.
The urchins at sea blessed them with a loving night.
Just one night.
Then they wandered off...
.....from If you should know her by Anne Berlin
How hardly I concealed my tears,
...How oft did I complain!
When, many tedious days, my fears
...Told me I loved in vain.
But now my joys as wild are grown,
...And hard to be concealed;
Sorrow may make a silent moan,
...But joy will be revealed.
I tell it to the bleating flocks,
...To every stream and tree;
And bless the hollow murmuring rocks
...For echoing back to me.
Thus you may see with how much joy
...We want, we wish, believe;
'Tis hard such passion to destroy
...But easy to deceive.
.....Song by Anne Wharton
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes.
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
"Listen," I said. "It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as a horse galloping past in the night."
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, "I cannot go: all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever."
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness. "If it stops, I shall die."
.....The Meeting by Katherine Mansfield
Dawn turned to dusk and they found each other.
The sun went down leaving all of it's glory on their burned skin.
He had fallen asleep and she...
she went to the sea.
She glances behind- tenderness swells deep within her.
His image gets smaller and smaller-
Soon his presence just a remembrance.
She sees him in the distance-- he is as still as a starry night.
Faintly his hand beckons her.
She races towards him,
grabs it greedily- aching for his soft caress.
She wanted to love him.
She wanted him to love her.
She pulls him close to her chest and rests his head there,
it's so peaceful, so safe.
Time stood still.
The urchins at sea blessed them with a loving night.
Just one night.
Then they wandered off...
.....from If you should know her by Anne Berlin
How hardly I concealed my tears,
...How oft did I complain!
When, many tedious days, my fears
...Told me I loved in vain.
But now my joys as wild are grown,
...And hard to be concealed;
Sorrow may make a silent moan,
...But joy will be revealed.
I tell it to the bleating flocks,
...To every stream and tree;
And bless the hollow murmuring rocks
...For echoing back to me.
Thus you may see with how much joy
...We want, we wish, believe;
'Tis hard such passion to destroy
...But easy to deceive.
.....Song by Anne Wharton