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.
WHEN a storm comes up at night and the wind is crying,
When the trees are moaning like masts on laboring ships,
I wake in fear and put out my hand to find you
With your name on my lips.
No pain that the heart can hold is like to this one–
To call, forgetting, into aching space,
To reach out confident hands and find beside you
Only an empty place.