WHAT is the love of shadowy lips
That know not what they seek or press,
From whom the lure for ever slips
And fails their phantom tenderness?
 

The mystery and light of eyes
That near to mine grow dim and cold;
They move afar in ancient skies
Mid flame and mystic darkness rolled.
 

O beauty, as thy heart o’erflows
In tender yielding unto me,
A vast desire awakes and grows
Unto forgetfulness of thee.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 1244 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 121. 121. Illusion
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
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