Listen Beloved

Listen, Beloved, the Casurinas quiver,

Each tassel prays the wind to set it free,

Hark to the frantic sobbing of the river,

Wild to attain extinction in the sea.

All Nature blindly struggles to dissolve

In other forms and forces, thus to solve

The painful riddle of identity.

Ah, that my soul might lose itself in thee!

Yet, my Beloved One, wherefore seek I union,

Since there is no such thing in all the world,–

Are not our spirits linked in close communion,–

And on my lips thy clinging lips are curled?

Thy tender arms are round my shoulders thrown,

I hear thy heart more loudly than my own,

And yet, to my despair, I know thee far,

As in the stellar darkness, star from star.

Even in times when love with bounteous measure

A simultaneous joy on us has shed,

In the last moment of delirious pleasure,

Ere the sense fail, or any force be fled,

My rapture has been even as a wall,

Shutting out any thought of thee at all!

My being, by its own delight possessed,

Forgot that it was sleeping on thy breast.

Ay, from his birth each man is vowed and given

To a vast loneliness, ungauged, unspanned,

Whether by pain and woe his soul be riven,

Or all fair pleasures clustered ‘neath his hand.

His gain by day, his ecstasy by night,–

His force, his folly, fierce or faint delight,–

Suffering or sorrow, fortune, feud, or care,–

Whate’er he find or feel,–he may not share.

Lonely we join the world, and we depart

Even as lonely, having lived alone,

The breast that feeds us, the beloved one’s heart,

The lips we kiss,–or curse–alike unknown.

Ay, even these lips of thine, so often kissed,

What certitude have I that they exist?

Alas, it is the truth, though harsh it seems,

I have been loved as sweetly in my dreams.

Therefore if I should seem too fiercely fond,

Too swift to love, too eager to attain,

Forgive the fervour that would forge beyond

The limits set to mortal joy and pain.

Knowing the soul’s unmeasured loneliness,

My passion must be mingled with distress,

As I, despairing, struggle to draw near

What is as unattainable as dear.

Thirst may be quenched at any kindly river,

Rest may be found ‘neath any arching tree.

No sleep allures, no draughts of love deliver

My spirit from its aching need of thee.

Thy sweet assentiveness to my demands,

All the caressive touches of thy hands,–

These soft cool hands, with fingers tipped with fire,–

They can do nothing to assuage desire.

Sometimes I think my longing soul remembers

A previous love to which it aims and strives,

As if this fire of ours were but the embers

Of some wild flame burnt out in former lives.

Perchance in earlier days I _did_ attain

That which I seek for now so all in vain,

Maybe my soul with thine _was_ fused and wed

In some great night, long since dissolved and dead.

We may progress; but who shall answer clearly

The riddle of the endless change of things.

Perchance in other days men loved more dearly,

Or Love himself had wider ways and wings,

Maybe we gave ourselves with less control,

Or simpler living left more free the soul,

So that with ease the flesh aside was flung,–

Or was it merely that _Mankind was young?_

Or has my spirit a divine prevision

Of vast vague passions stored in days to be,

When some strong souls shall conquer their division

And two shall be as one, eternally?

Finding at last upon each other’s breast,

Unutterable calm and infinite rest,

While love shall burn with such intense a glow

That both shall die, and neither heed or know.

Why do I question thus, and wake confusion

In the soft thought that lights thy perfect face,

Ah, shed once more thy perfumed hair’s profusion,

Open thine arms and make my resting place.

Lay thy red lips on mine as heretofore,

Grant me the treasure of thy beauty’s store,

Stifle all thought in one imperious kiss,–

What shall I ask for more than this,–and this?

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Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Rain After a Vaudeville Show by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Portrait of a Boy by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Portrait of a Baby by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Poor Devil! by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Nos Immortales by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Music by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• May Morning by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Love in Twilight by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Lonely Burial by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Going Back to School by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Ghosts of a Lunatic Asylum by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Elegy for an Enemy by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Dinner in a Quick Lunch Room by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Dedication by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Colors by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Before an Examination by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• Alexander VI Dines with the Cardinal of Capua by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• A Minor Poet by Stephen Vincent Benet by Stephen Vincent Benét
• The Grammar Lesson by Steve Kowit by Poetry In English
• The Convoy by Stephenie Tucker by Poetry In English

More external links (open in a new tab):

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Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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