Why is it I remember yet
You, of all women one has met
In random wayfare, as one meets
The chance romances of the streets,
The Juliet of a night? I know
Your heart holds many a Romeo.
And I, who call to mind your face
In so serene a pausing-place,
Where the bright pure expanse of sea,
The shadowy shore's austerity,
Seems a reproach to you and me,
I too have sought on many a breast
The ecstasy of love's unrest,
I too have had my dreams, and met
(Ah me!) how many a Juliet.
Why is it, then, that I recall
You, neither first nor last of all?
For, surely as I see tonight
The glancing of the lighthouse light,
Against the sky, across the bay,
As turn by turn it falls my way,
So surely do I see your eyes
Out of the empty night arise,
Child, you arise and smile to me
Out of the night, out of the sea,
The Nereid of a moment there,
And is it seaweed in your hair?
O lost and wrecked, how long ago,
Out of the drownèd past, I know,
You come to call me, come to claim
My share of your delicious shame.
Child, I remember, and can tell,
One night we loved each other well;
And one night's love, at least or most,
Is not so small a thing to boast.
You were adorable, and I
Adored you to infinity,
That nuptial night too briefly borne
To the oblivion of morn.
Oh, no oblivion! for I feel
Your lips deliriously steal
Along my neck and fasten there;
I feel the perfume of your hair,
And your soft breast that heaves and dips,
Desiring my desirous lips,
And that ineffable delight
When souls turn bodies, and unite
In the intolerable, the whole
Rapture of the embodied soul.
That joy was ours, we passed it by;
You have forgotten me, and I
Remember you thus strangely, won
An instant from oblivion.
And I, remembering, would declare
That joy, not shame, is ours to share,
Joy that we had the will and power,
In spite of fate, to snatch one hour,
Out of vague nights, and days at strife,
So infinitely full of life.
And 'tis for this I see you rise,
A wraith, with starlight in your eyes,
Here, where the drowsy-minded mood
Is one with Nature's solitude;
For this, for this, you come to me
Out of the night, out of the sea.
Arthur Symons's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Stella Maris by Arthur Symons )
- I Am playing, gajanan mishra
- Everyday Is a TEST, Enoch Owusu Gyamfi
- One Of These Pure Days, Naveed Akram
- Deepavali, Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Psalm CVII, Henry Ainsworth
- Even in strife, hasmukh amathalal
- ! DESECRATED POEMS/FLOATING HYPERLINK IN.., Alice Vedral Rivera
- In the midst of ruin there is reparation, Mark Heathcote
- Psalm XXIII, Henry Ainsworth
- Moral on love., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)