There is no transcience of twilight in
The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face,
No flicker of a slender flame in space,
In crucibles, fragility crystalline.
There is no fragrance of the jessamine
About you, no pathos of some old place
At dusk, that crumbles like moth-eater lace
Beneath the touch. Nor has there ever been.
Your love is like the folk-song’s flaming rise
In cane-lipped southern people, like their soul
Which burst its bondage in a bold travail;
Your voice is like them singing, soft and wise,
Your face, sweetly efflgent of the whole,
Inviolate of ways that would feile.
(Jean Toomer)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Faces Poems, Beauty Poems, Wisdom & Knowledge Poems, People Poems, Space Poems, Singing PoemsBased on Keywords: fragility, folk-song, crucibles, cane-lipped, feile, dusk-dimpled, transcience