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Who dreamed that beauty passes like a dream?
For these red lips, with all their mournful pride,
Mournful that no new wonder may betide,
Troy passed away in one high funeral gleam,
And Usna's children died.
We and the labouring world are passing by:
Amid men's souls, that waver and give place
Like the pale waters in their wintry race,
Under the passing stars, foam of the sky,
Lives on this lonely face.
Bow down, archangels, in your dim abode:
Before you were, or any hearts to beat,
Weary and kind one lingered by His seat;
He made the world to be a grassy road
Before her wandering feet.
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Copyright © 2003-2008 Gunnar Bengtsson, Poetry Connection. All Rights Reserved.
This is another exciting poem from the metaphsical poet.It portrays a sort of feelings to his rose -Maude Gonne's an Irish lady.He uses allusion to the Helen of troy as the beauty of his rose.This poem is closely similar to Marvells"to his coy mistress"
Ibrahim Kaumi Kolo from Nigeria