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Except within poetic pale I have not found a nightingale, Nor hearkened in a dusky vale To song and silence blending; No stock-dove have I ever heard, Nor listened to a cuckoo-bird, Nor seen a lark ascending. But I have felt a pulse-beat start Because a robin, spending The utmost of his simple art Some of his pleasure to impart While twilight came descending, Has found an answer in my heart, A sudden comprehending.
This poem is in the public domain.
There is a solitude in seeing you,
Followed by your company when you are gone.
You are like heaven’s veils of lightning.
I cannot see till afterward
How beautiful you are.
There is a blindness in seeing you,
Followed by the sight of you when you are gone.
This veil
Of lavender and dawn
Floats off
Invisible,
And this of purple noon
Unwinds in wisdom,
Twitters, undulates,
Dips, darts,
And this of night
Circles around me singing
Fools, fools, fools,
Your blood is hot to-day.
It cools
When you are clay.
It joins the very clod
Wherein you look at God,
Wherein at last you see
The living God
The loving God,
Which was your enemy.