Arthur Symons

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

Arthur Symons Poems

81. April Midnight? 2/13/2015
82. An Ending 3/20/2012
83. Stella Maris 4/12/2010
84. Alle Zattere 3/20/2012
85. Venice 4/12/2010
86. Grey Hours: Naples 4/12/2010
87. In The Meadows At Mantua 4/12/2010
88. At Dieppe 3/20/2012
89. Haschisch 4/12/2010
90. At Toledo 3/20/2012
91. At Seventeen 3/20/2012
92. Autumn Twilight 3/20/2012
93. At Carbis Bay 3/20/2012
94. Alla Dogana 3/20/2012
95. La Mélinite: Moulin Rouge 3/20/2012
96. Perfume 4/12/2010
97. To A Dancer 3/20/2012
98. The Andante Of Snakes 1/3/2003
99. Behind The Scenes: Empire 4/12/2010
100. Colour Studies {at Dieppe} 4/12/2010
101. By Loe Pool 1/3/2003
102. Modern Beauty 4/12/2010
103. At Glan-Y-Wern 4/12/2010
104. A Winter's Night 3/20/2012
105. By The Pool Of The Third Rosses 1/3/2003
106. Pastel: Masks And Faces 4/12/2010
107. O, Water, Voice Of My Heart... 4/12/2010
108. At Burgos 1/3/2003
109. Gipsy Love 1/3/2003
110. As A Perfume 4/12/2010
111. Javanese Dancers 1/3/2003
112. In Fountain Court 1/3/2003
113. The Broken Tryst 1/3/2003
114. Emmy 1/3/2003
115. At Fontainebleau 1/1/2004
116. The Old Women 1/3/2003
117. The Loom Of Dreams 1/3/2003
118. Before The Squall 1/3/2003
119. Kisses 1/3/2003
120. Love And Sleep 1/3/2003
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

The Broken Tryst

That day a fire was in my blood;
I could have sung: joy wrapt me round;
The men I met seemed all so good,
I scarcely knew I trod the ground.

How easy seemed all toil! I laughed
To think that once I hated it.
The sunlight thrilled like wine, I quaffed
Delight, divine and infinite.

[Report Error]