Thomas Sturge Moore Love Poems
- 1. Aforetime
Dear exile from the hurrying crowd,
At work I muse to you aloud;
Thought on my anvil softens, glows,
And I forget our art has foes;
- 2. A Sicilian Idyll
(First Scene) Damon
I thank thee, no;
Already have I drunk a bowl of wine . . .
Nay, nay, why wouldst thou rise?
- 3. To Memory
O deeper than the noontide seems when blue,
Conceived as of yet finer woof than air,
Where, as clouds form, folk cherished, moments rare,
Fitfully gleam and pass . . . romance all true,
- 4. The Dying Swan
O SILVER-THROATED Swan
Struck, struck! A golden dart
Clean through thy breast has gone
Home to thy heart.