Oh, while there’s breath of life and passion still,
While yet remains a warmth, a failing flame
Within the fallen fortress of my will,
Give me a moment of your love to claim.
Come let me hold you close in hushed embrace
And crush you with the force of fierce desire,
Yet by that love no future plan to trace,
But just to love that moment to conspire.
I will not chain you, though enchained by thee;
The memory of your love will prison me.
THE TROPIC DAWN
The tropic dawn is beautiful at sea,
The clouds respond so readily to light.
Though overhead the stars continue bright
And scattered like a broken string of beads,
The eastward doors of night are opened wide
And light floods all the ocean floor inside.
The sun gets up, a painter out of bed,
To work again his canvas of the world,
To change black water into blue instead,
To tint what little frantic foam gets hurled
From two waves’ temperaments with ruby fire,
And make the sea a thing for man’s desire.
The day comes gently, working through the clouds,
Which light and burn with brilliance many-hued.
A sailor somewhere singing in the shrouds
With naked chest and feet and arms tatooed,
His sailor hat at angle on his head,
Salutes the day with thoughts of home and bed.
Oh, take me back, away from dawn and sea,
Oh, take me where the heart of me would be,
And in some blessed meadow set me free!
TWILIGHT
A little while ago that sky was gold,
And green that hill,
And blue the white-capped sea,
And I stood watching through these vines a ship
That moved, hull down, beyond,
Beneath the point.