July feelings

 

 

Tantas veces vivimos  esperando el día. El momento perfecto que nos acerque al día. Tantas veces en vano, esperamos el día…

Perdida en esa espera , va la poesía.

 

Love and Sleep

Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily’s leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said–
I wist not what, saving one word–Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul’s desire.

 

 Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909)

When You Are Old 

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.  

 

William Butler Yeats

 

Sweet Endings Come and Go, Love 

Sweet evenings come and go, love,

They came and went of yore:

This evening of our life, love,

Shall go and come no more.

 

When we have passed away, love,

All things will keep their name;

But yet no life on earth, love,

With ours will be the same.

 

The daisies will be there, love,

The stars in heaven will shine:

I shall not feel thy wish, love,

Nor thou my hand in thine.

 

A better time will come, love,

And better souls be born:

I would not be the best, love,

To leave thee now forlorn. 
 

George Eliot 

 

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet XLIII)

 

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone,

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more. 
 

Edna St. Vincent Millay 

 

Never Give All The Heart 

Never give all the heart, for love

Will hardly seem worth thinking of

To passionate women if it seem

Certain, and they never dream

That it fades out from kiss to kiss;

For everything that’s lovely is

But a brief, dreamy. Kind delight.

O never give the heart outright,

For they, for all smooth lips can say,

Have given their hearts up to the play.

And who could play it well enough

If deaf and dumb and blind with love?

He that made this knows all the cost,

For he gave all his heart and lost
 

William Butler Yeats

 

I Am Not Yours   

I am not yours, not lost in you,

Not lost, although I long to be

Lost as a candle lit at noon,

Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

 

You love me, and I find you still

A spirit beautiful and bright,

Yet I am I, who long to be

Lost as a light is lost in light.

 

Oh plunge me deep in love — put out

My senses, leave me deaf and blind,

Swept by the tempest of your love,

A taper in a rushing wind.

 

Sarah Teasdale

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