The Gift of Tears
There is a desire You cannot despise,
That knows that love is fire, and lust is rust,
And gives birth to the heart's thoughts through the eyes
To quench my soul, knowing I turn to dust.
May tears of damnation be strange to me;
I do not want to cry the tears of death,
For when Your Mercy I at last should see,
I realize You gave me Your own breath.
So may my tears be mingled with Your blood!
May tears of true contrition be my milk!
For I deserved to die in the Great Flood,
And yet You let me sleep in sheets of silk!
The love You feel for me is like a fire
That burns for nothing more than my desire.
Luc Leclaire's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Gift of Tears by Luc Leclaire )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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