The first, a woman, nobly limbed and fair,
Standeth at sunset by a famed far sea.
Red are her lips as Love's own kisses were,
Yet speak they never though they smile on me.
An old knight, next, and arméd cap--à --pie,
Watcheth the slaughtered clay that was his heir.
The winding--sheet is not more white than he,
Hath sat since dawn and hath not shed a tear.
The third a tortured bull about to die
In the arena. No proud infidel
E'er laid his dripping spears more scornfully
In Spanish dust; for he too, ere he fell,
Hath slain a man. Ah Christ! That murderous eye
Burneth athirst like the red pit of Hell.
Three Pictures Continued
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(1)
Poem topics: never, sea, smile, sunset, woman, white, tear, arena, speak, dust, spanish, dawn, love, red, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Three Pictures Continued poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Best Poems of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt