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Kisses

Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses?

How soft is this one, how subtle this is,

How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is,

As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice;

How this one clings and how that uncloses

From bud to flower in the way of roses;

And this through laughter and that through weeping

Swims to the brim where Love lies sleeping;

by Arthur Symons

Amends To Nature

I have loved colours, and not flowers;

Their motion, not the swallows wings;

And wasted more than half my hours

Without the comradeship of things.

How is it, now, that I can see,

With love and wonder and delight,

The children of the hedge and tree,

The little lords of day and night?

by Arthur Symons

Perfume

Shake out your hair about me, so,

That I may feel the stir and scent

Of those vague odours come and go

The way our kisses went.

Night gave this priceless hour of love,

But now the dawn steals in apace,

And amorously bends above

The wonder of your face.

by Arthur Symons

Dawn

Here in the little room

You sleep the sleep of innocent tired youth,

While I, in very sooth,

Tired, and awake beside you in the gloom,

Watch for the dawn, and feel the morning make

A loneliness about me for your sake.

You are so young, so fair,

And such a child, and might have loved so well;

by Arthur Symons

Emmy

Emmy's exquisite youth and her virginal air,

Eyes and teeth in the flash of a musical smile,

Come to me out of the past, and I see her there

As I saw her once for a while.

Emmy's laughter rings in my ears, as bright,

Fresh and sweet as the voice of a mountain brook,

And still I hear her telling us tales that night,

Out of Boccaccio's book.

by Arthur Symons

At Fontainebleau

IT was a day of sun and rain,

Uncertain as a child’s swift moods;

And I shall never spend again

So blithe a day among the woods.

Was it because the Gods were pleased

That they were awful in our eyes,

Whom we in very deed appeased

by Arthur Symons

The Old Women

They pass upon their old, tremulous feet,

Creeping with little satchels down the street,

And they remember, many years ago,

Passing that way in silks. They wander, slow

And solitary, through the city ways,

And they alone remember those old days

Men have forgotten. In their shaking heads

A dancer of old carnivals yet treads

by Arthur Symons

Venice

Water and marble and that silentness

Which is not broken by a wheel or hoof;

A city like a water-lily, less

Seen than reflected, palace wall and roof,

In the unfruitful waters motionless,

Without one living grass's green reproof;

A city without joy or weariness,

Itself beholding, from itself aloof.

by Arthur Symons

You Remain

As a perfume doth remain

In the folds where it hath lain,

So the thought of you, remaining

Deeply folded in my brain,

Will not leave me; all things leave me -

You remain.

Other thoughts may come and go,

Other moments I may know

by Arthur Symons

Colour Studies {At Dieppe}

The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,

Indefinitely desolate;

A sea of lead, a sky of slate;

Already autumn in the air, alas!

One stark monotony of stone,

The long hotel, acutely white,

Against the after-sunset light

Withers grey-green, and takes the grass's tone.

by Arthur Symons

Haschisch

Behind the door, beyond the light,

Who is it waits there in the night?

When he has entered he will stand,

Imposing with his silent hand

Some silent thing upon the night.

Behold the image of my fear.

O rise not, move not, come not near!

That moment, when you turned your face,

by Arthur Symons

Pastel: Masks and Faces

The light of our cigarettes

Went and came in the gloom:

It was dark in the little room.

Dark, and then, in the dark,

Sudden, a flash, a glow,

And a hand and a ring I know.

And then, through the dark, a flush

Ruddy and vague, the grace

by Arthur Symons