John Hay Poems
|87.||After You, Pilot||1/4/2003|
|89.||A Woman's Love||1/4/2003|
|90.||A Winter Night||1/4/2003|
|91.||A Triumph Of Order||1/4/2003|
|92.||A Prayer In Thessaly||1/4/2003|
|94.||A Haunted Room||1/4/2003|
|95.||A Dream Of Bric-A-Brac||1/4/2003|
A Prayer In Thessaly
A lover prayed to Eros in this wise:-
Since my love loves not me, Eros! I pray
That thou wilt take this torturing love away.
But since she is so fair, still let mine eyes
Unloving, joy in her, her beauty prize;
Still let her clear voice ring as pure and gay
To my calm heart as mating birds in May.
The words went up the blue Thessalian skies.
But ere they reached the high god's golden seat,
The lover to retract his prayer was fain:
Nay, let me keep the bitter with the sweet,
Better than placid bliss is love's dear pain.
My love I'll ...
O beauteous daughter of a mighty race!
In thy fair features and thy radiant eyes
Like bright clouds floating over brighter skies
The shadows of a glorious past we trace.
Framed in the oval of thy perfect face
Flit the pale belles of bygone centuries;
A hint of lawgivers and jurists lies
In that pure brow where strength is wed with grace.
And looking on thy profile's symmetry