Amos Bronson Alcott
Ah! why so brief the visit, short his stay?
The acquaintance so surprising, and so sweet,
Stolen is my heart, 't is journeying far away,
With that shy stranger whom my voice did greet.
That hour so fertile of entrancing thought,
So rapt the conversation, and so free,
My heart lost soundings, tenderly upcaught,
Driven by soft sails of love and ecstasy!
Was I then? was I? clasped in Love's embrace,
And touched with ardors of divinity?
Spake with my chosen lover face to face,
Espoused then truly? such my destiny?
I cannot tell; but own the pleasing theft,
That when the stranger went, I was of Love bereft.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Proem II by Amos Bronson Alcott )
- The body of my Temple lays unswept;, David McLansky
- Feral Mother, Robert Rorabeck
- An Unborn Child, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Euthanasia of Airplanes, Robert Rorabeck
- Spindrels of Cornucopia, Robert Rorabeck
- it's the little things that make love big, Mandolyn ...
- Time Frozen, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Time To Crash, Michael McParland
- Poetry Delivers, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
- Near faint beneath golden limes, Mark Heathcote
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Let America be America Again, Langston Hughes
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)