Love poems

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The House Of Dust: Part 04: 05: The Bitter Love-Song

© Conrad Aiken

Sharp shafts of music dazzled my eyes and pierced me.
I ran and turned and spun and danced in the sunlight,
Shrank, sometimes, from the freezing silence of beauty,
Or crept once more to the warm white cave of sleep.

The House Of Dust: Part 04: 04: Counterpoint: Two Rooms

© Conrad Aiken

He, in the room above, grown old and tired,
She, in the room belowhis floor her ceiling
Pursue their separate dreams. He turns his light,
And throws himself on the bed, face down, in laughter. . . .
She, by the window, smiles at a starlight night,

The Banks Of Wye - Book I

© Robert Bloomfield

No butler's proxies snore supine,
Where the old monarch kept his wine;
No Welch ox roasting, horns and all,
Adorns his throng'd and laughing hall;
But where he pray'd, and told his beads,
A thriving ash luxuriant spreads.

The House Of Dust: Part 04: 03: Palimpsest: A Deceitful Portrait

© Conrad Aiken

Or 'one day dies eventless as another,
Leaving the seeker still unsatisfied,
And more convinced life yields no satisfaction'?
Or 'seek too hard, the sight at length grows callous,
And beauty shines in vain'?

The Lunatic Girl

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Three long and weary months -- yet not a whisper
Of stern reproach for that cold parting! Then
She sat no longer by her favorite fountain!--
She was at rest forever.

The House Of Dust: Part 04: 02: Death: And A Derisive Chorus

© Conrad Aiken

The door is shut. She leaves the curtained office,
And down the grey-walled stairs comes trembling slowly
Towards the dazzling street.
Her withered hand clings tightly to the railing.
The long stairs rise and fall beneath her feet.

Sixth Sunday After Epiphany

© John Keble

There are, who darkling and alone,

Would wish the weary night were gone,

The House Of Dust: Part 04: 01: Clairvoyant

© Conrad Aiken

'This envelope you say has something in it
Which once belonged to your dead sonor something
He knew, was fond of? Something he remembers?
The soul flies far, and we can only call it
By things like these . . . a photograph, a letter,
Ribbon, or charm, or watch . . . '

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 12: Witches' Sabbath

© Conrad Aiken

The walls and roofs, the scarlet towers,
Sank down behind a rushing sky.
He heard a sweet song just begun
Abruptly shatter in tones and die.
It whirled away. Cold silence fell.
And again came tollings of a bell.

The Jilted Lover To His Mother

© Edith Nesbit

You needn't pray for me, old lady, I don't want no one's prayer,
I'm fit and jolly as ever I was--you needn't think I care.
When I go whistling down the road, when the warm night is falling,
She needn't think I'm whistling her, it's another girl I'm calling.

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 11: Conversation: Undertones

© Conrad Aiken

What shall we talk of? Li Po? Hokusai?
You narrow your long dark eyes to fascinate me;
You smile a little. . . .Outside, the night goes by.
I walk alone in a forest of ghostly trees . . .
Your pale hands rest palm downwards on your knees.

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10: Letter

© Conrad Aiken

From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees
The soft blue starlight through the one small window,
The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,
And turns to write . . . The clock, behind ticks softly.

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 09: Cabaret

© Conrad Aiken

We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass . . .'
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass . . .'

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 08: Coffins: Interlude

© Conrad Aiken

Wind blows. Snow falls. The great clock in its tower
Ticks with reverberant coil and tolls the hour:
At the deep sudden stroke the pigeons fly . . .
The fine snow flutes the cracks between the flagstones.
We close our coats, and hurry, and search the sky.

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 06: Portrait Of One Dead

© Conrad Aiken

Here is the roomwith ghostly walls dissolving
The twilight room in which she called you 'lover';
And the floorless room in which she called you 'friend.'
So many times, in doubt, she ran between them!
Through windy corridors of darkening end.

The Beggar's Soliloquy

I

Now, this, to my notion, is pleasant cheer,

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04: Illicit

© Conrad Aiken

She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02: The Screen Maiden

© Conrad Aiken

You readwhat is it, then that you are reading?
What music moves so silently in your mind?
Your bright hand turns the page.
I watch you from my window, unsuspected:
You move in an alien land, a silent age . . .