Poems by Arthur Symons
A Tune
... Why is it when love, which men call deathless, is dead, ...
At Burgos
... The great cathedral spreads its wings ...
Rosa Flammea
... But the scent of the rose that is rooted in, hell Steals o'er me ...
To The Merchants Of Bought Dreams
... on my hand I wear the little ring which, waked to fire, ...
The Coming Of Spring: Madrid
... The birds are calling, the little green buds on the trees, ...
The One Face
... Or as dreams dreamed in vain ...
An Invocation
... No more than some Starved speech of "yea" and "nay": ...
Before The Squall
... Where the sky rests, a visible wall, ...
Hymn To Fire
... Snatched thee, and brought down ...
The Evil Face
... When his eyes open in Hell, they'll say: All's sterile ...
Harvest Moon
... One star on the eastern ridge hung low on the sea's ...
Giovanni Malatesta At Rimini
... "The Staff," he thought, "is Paolo: like that staff ...
The Bond
... And nearer to me than my breath, and my peace and my strife, ...
Grey Hours: Naples
... But life, and art, and love, and death, are the shade of a shade ...
At Toledo
... The grass laughs, thinking: I am born and die, ...
