ext_226735 (
duathir.livejournal.com) wrote in
war_poetry2016-06-28 12:00 am
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John William Streets, 'Remembrance'
Remembrance
Sweet are the wind's soft kisses on the brow;
Sweet is the singing of the mated bird;
Sweet is the scent of blossom on the bough;
Sweet is a woman's singing voice when heard!
Happy recall of things remembered -
Life's happy hours, love's blooded ecstasy.
Youth's sanguine dreams whose tireless wings outsped
The light - now silhouettes of Memory!
E'en like a dawn whose flush outlives the day;
E'en like a star that lives beyond the night;
As maid's remembrance of her bridal-day;
Or as his cult to mystic acolyte -
So is the memory of these things to me
Here on the verge of death, eternity.
by John William Streets
John William Streets: The Undying Splendour
Sweet are the wind's soft kisses on the brow;
Sweet is the singing of the mated bird;
Sweet is the scent of blossom on the bough;
Sweet is a woman's singing voice when heard!
Happy recall of things remembered -
Life's happy hours, love's blooded ecstasy.
Youth's sanguine dreams whose tireless wings outsped
The light - now silhouettes of Memory!
E'en like a dawn whose flush outlives the day;
E'en like a star that lives beyond the night;
As maid's remembrance of her bridal-day;
Or as his cult to mystic acolyte -
So is the memory of these things to me
Here on the verge of death, eternity.
by John William Streets
John William Streets: The Undying Splendour
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