At the Stage Door (Arthur Symons Poems)
Kicking my heels in the street,Here at the edge of the pavement I wait for you, sweet,Here in the crowd, ...
Kicking my heels in the street,Here at the edge of the pavement I wait for you, sweet,Here in the crowd, ...
The shadows of the gaslit wingsCome softly crawling down our way;Before the curtain someone sings,The music sounds from far away;I ...
Night, and the silence of the night,In Venice; far away, a song;As if the lyric water madeItself a serenade;As if ...
THE BODY Call in the dancers. THE SOUL All is vain. We live, and living is the pain We die ...
To SAROJINI NAIDU A YOUTH OF SHEBA. THE QUEEN OF SHEBA. THE HERALD. ...
I dreamed that the Chimaera came, A wandering angel, white with flame From some cloud's height or moonless deep, And ...
I The eyes, that, having seen the saintly light Blossom white-petalled out of a white sea In a miraculous rose ...
I am the prisoner of my love of you. I pace my soul, as prisoned culprits do, You Stand like ...
And if I love you more than my own soul Then must you die and I shall never die Until ...
Waves of the gentle waters of the healing night, Flow over me with silent peace and golden dark, Wash me ...
Stars in the heavens turn, I worship like a star, And in its footsteps learn Where peace and wisdom are. ...
Behind the door, beyond the light,Who is it waits there in the night?When he has entered he will stand,Imposing with ...
Peace waits among the hills; I have drunk peace, Here, where the blue air fills The great cup of ...
Fair faces come again, As at sunsetting The Stars without number; Or as dreams dreamed in vain To a heart ...
The sun, a fiery orange in the air, Thins and discolours to a disc of tin, Until the breathing mist's ...
White-robed against the threefold whiteOf shutter, glass and curtains' lace,She flashed into the evening lightThe brilliance of her gipsy face:I ...
Iwent to seek a many-coloured soul, But here all colours burn into one white And are invisible as light; I ...
The fountain murmuring of sleep, A drowsy tune; The flickering green of leaves that keep The light of June; Peace, ...
My life is like a music-hall, Where, in the impotence of rage, Chained by enchantment to my stall, I see ...
They pass upon their old, tremulous feet, Creeping with little satchels down the street, And they remember, many years ago, ...
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