Arthur Symons

(28 February 1865 – 22 January 1945 / Milford Havens, Wales)

Arthur Symons Poems

41. Margery Of The Fens 3/20/2012
42. White Magic 3/20/2012
43. Toys 3/20/2012
44. Magnificat 3/20/2012
45. Clair De Lune 3/20/2012
46. Her Eyes Say Yes 3/20/2012
47. The Dogs 3/20/2012
48. Bianca 3/20/2012
49. Caprice 3/20/2012
50. Venetian Night 3/20/2012
51. In The Wood Of Finvara 3/20/2012
52. Mauve, Black, And Rose 3/20/2012
53. The Obscure Night Of The Soul 3/20/2012
54. On An Air Of Rameau 3/20/2012
55. The Rapture 3/20/2012
56. The Abandoned 3/20/2012
57. To One In Allienation 3/20/2012
58. The Last Memory 3/20/2012
59. The Temptation Of St. Anthony 3/20/2012
60. Paris 3/20/2012
61. The Primrose Dance 3/20/2012
62. The Pale Woman 3/20/2012
63. The Coming Of Spring 3/20/2012
64. Nora On The Pavement 3/20/2012
65. Idealism 3/20/2012
66. At The Stage Door 3/20/2012
67. At Toledo 3/20/2012
68. At The Ambassadeurs 3/20/2012
69. A Brother Of The Battuti 3/20/2012
70. Night And Wind 3/20/2012
71. To A Gitana Dancing 3/20/2012
72. At The Foresters 3/20/2012
73. The Wood-Nymph 3/20/2012
74. Palm Sunday 3/20/2012
75. Airs For The Lute 3/20/2012
76. At Tarragona 3/20/2012
77. Before Meeting 3/20/2012
78. La Mélinite: Moulin Rouge 3/20/2012
79. A Litany Of Lethe 3/20/2012
80. Dawn 4/12/2010

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Best Poem of Arthur Symons

Amends To Nature

I have loved colours, and not flowers;
Their motion, not the swallows wings;
And wasted more than half my hours
Without the comradeship of things.

How is it, now, that I can see,
With love and wonder and delight,
The children of the hedge and tree,
The little lords of day and night?

How is it that I see the roads,
No longer with usurping eyes,
A twilight meeting-place for toads,
A mid-day mart for butterflies?

I feel, in every midge that hums,
Life, fugitive and infinite,
And suddenly the world becomes
A part of me and I of ...

Read the full of Amends To Nature

Before The Squall

The wind is rising on the sea,
The windy white foam-dancers leap;
And the sea moans uneasily,
And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep.

Ridge after rocky ridge uplifts,
Wild hands, and hammers at the land,
Scatters in liquid dust, and drifts
To death among the dusty sand.

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