would shake Thee swiftly from their shoulders, cast aside The burden of thy jewelled bands that break Their very hearts . . . often it is too late. They fear the world will mock them and deride When they are stripped of all their golden state. But some are brave . . . but some among us dare Cry out against thy torment and be free! And I would rather a gay beggar be, And go in rags for all eternity, Than that thy clanking pomp should cover me, O Care! . . .

 

 

 

 

"Quelque part une Enfance très douce doit mourir"  Albert Samian

Alas! I do not know on what sad day My childhood went away . . . It may have left me softly in the night When I was sleeping—dreaming—who can tell? Perhaps it whispered "wings were made for flight!"  I only know it never said "farewell" . . .

And so I cannot tell when youth will go Although I love it so . . . But like a little amorous girl that clings To some fair boy, my spirit all afraid, While yet she holds youth back by the bright wings, Knows he must leave her for some other maid!

 

 

 

 

Candle-Light

Frail golden flowers that perish at a breath, Flickering points of honey-coloured flame, From sunset gardens of the moon you came, Pale flowers of passion . . . delicate flowers of death . . .

Blossoms of opal fire that raised on high Upon a hundred silver stems are seen Above the brilliant dance, or set between The brimming wine-cups . . . flowers of revelry!

Roses with amber petals that arise Out of the purple darkness of the night To deck the darkened house of Love, to light The laughing lips, the beautiful glad eyes.

Lilies with violet-coloured 

 Prev. P 5/19 next