Aline Murray Kilmer
Aline Murray Kilmer Poems
|1.||The Heart Knoweth Its Own Bitterness||10/5/2010|
|3.||For All Ladies Of Shalott||10/5/2010|
|5.||Song Against Children||10/5/2010|
|7.||To A Child Shut In A Bedroom||10/5/2010|
|8.||To An Intruder||10/5/2010|
|9.||To Sappho, About Her Apple||10/5/2010|
|14.||The Stirrup Cup||10/5/2010|
|15.||The Touch Of Tears||10/5/2010|
|16.||Words To An Irish Air||10/5/2010|
|18.||Tour De Force||10/5/2010|
|20.||One Shall Be Taken And The Other Left||10/5/2010|
|23.||A Wind Rose In The Night||10/5/2010|
|30.||The Night Cometh||10/5/2010|
|31.||If I Had Loved You More||10/5/2010|
IF I had loved you, soon, ah, soon I had lost you.
Had I been kind you had kissed me and gone your faithless way.
The kiss that I would not give is the kiss that your lips are holding:
Now you are mine forever, because of all I have cost you.
You think that you are free and have given over your sighing,
You think that from my coldness your love has flown away:
But mine are the hands you shall dream that your own are holding,
And mine is the face you shall look for when you are dying.
I'M glad I have but a little heart–
For my heart is very small–
It makes it free to come and go
And no one cares at all.
I give my heart for a tender word,
For a gentle look or touch,
And the one who has it never knows
And it does not hurt me much.