Arthur Henry Adams

(6 December 1872 – 4 March 1936 / Lawrence / New Zealand)

On The Sands


ALL the air was tranced and the sea was stilled,
And we stood and dreamed of a world to be.
When it seemed to me that our souls were thrilled
With a sudden sympathy.
My life's long riddle at last I read,
And the spirit-face I had sought I knew;
All the Past's far years to this hour had led
On the sands alone with you!
And you—you thought that the skies were fair.
And such twilight peace you had seldom known;
And you never guessed that a soul was there
That hungered for your own!
You never knew—there was just the lack
Of a passioned look that would thrill me through,
But the night swept down, with its shroud of black,
And you never, never knew!

Submitted: Thursday, April 26, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (On The Sands by Arthur Henry Adams )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Revolution Brings Salvation, Ruma Chaudhuri
  2. Unity (Haiku), Diwakar Pokhriyal
  3. A Visit to the Unique Place, rohan bendre
  4. Yes, Mother Nature Teaches Bards..., Dr John Celes
  5. Tonic Pain, Soumita Sarkar Ray
  6. In the Absence of Light, F. J. Thomas
  7. Give me a drink, Diana Rosser
  8. White Power, F. J. Thomas
  9. Sweet Dreams, Sambanath Denis
  10. My unjust God, Nalini Chaturvedi

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]