I should feel your beauty against my face
Though I were blind.

Theme Arranged for Organ

I. PRELUDE

What would you have of me, my friend, in truth,
A breath of understanding, or a glance
Into your soul’s dark places?  Can a word
Aid in your brave attempt to smother youth? 
Of what avail that trifling circumstance,
In such a tumult could my voice be heard?

Before your bitter need my lips are dumb
So little can I give you.  Should I come
To feed a starving Titan with a crumb?

II.  INTERLUDE

Alas, I am too foolish or too wise,
Too soon am blinded or I see too far! 
How can I follow with expectant feet,
What is the beacon light that holds your eyes,
Can this blind alley lead to any star
And through this dark confusion, what retreat?

For heaven is awed when comets crash to earth,
But we, who grope and question our soul’s worth,
Stumbling, awaken only bitter mirth.

III.  POSTLUDE

A breath, a glance, a word,—­no more, my friend,
This is the sum of what I have to give
Leaving the tale for ever incomplete. 
No perfect moment, and no tragic end,
Within your heart those images shall live
And die like footsteps down an empty street.

Yet all the while a stifled instinct saith: 
“Spend your souls vigour to the utmost breath
And let the hounds come baying at the death!”

The Moonlight Sonata

My soul storm-beaten as an ancient pier
Stands forth into the sea; wave on slow wave
Of shining music, luminous and grave,
Lifting against me, pouring through me, here
Find wafts of unforgotten chords, which rise
And droop like clinging sea-weed.  You, so white,
So still, so helpless on this fathomless night
Float like a corpse with living, tortured eyes. 
Deep waves wash you against me; you impart
No comfort to my spirit, give no sign
Your inarticulate lips can taste the brine
Drowning the secret timbers of my heart.

Possession

I hold you fast, your hurrying breath,
Your wandering feet, your restless heart,
Are mine alone, for only death
You vowed today, can make us part.

Your eager lips, athirst to drain
Life’s goblet of its golden wine
Shall drink tonight or thirst in vain—­
I hold you fast for you are mine.

And when I search your soul until
I see too deeply and divine
That you can never love me—­Still
I hold you fast for you are mine!

Evening:  the Taj Mahal
(A Lover Speaks)

Beloved!...

India and you
Breathe through my soul tonight,
You in your gown, impossibly white—­
I marvel greatly that it fail
To glow and pale
With iridescent light—­
How can it hang in silent nun-like folds? 
Think of the flaming mystery it holds,
You...  You...