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I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;
Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!
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Copyright © 2003-2008 Gunnar Bengtsson, Poetry Connection. All Rights Reserved.
There has been (1) White Bird around my home for at least six weeks. I have never seen an all white bird before. The "I would that we were, my beloved, white birds" and "Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die" leads me to feel the presence of my most BELOVED HUSBAND that passed away soon to be 4 years ago. The love and the sorrow of his loss will be in my heart until "Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!" TOGETHER.
Nancy from United States