Emmanuel George Cefai Poems

And though the pitcher is not broke
Its heart is broke
And still the song that rose and sung
And in the dust the lyre lies.
...

The blue violet is nigh its sleep
Now that the dusk is tiptoeing by stealth
Drawing along with giant hand the curtains of day
And of its glory in the mid-day sun:
...

Fresh youth I like you in my heart
Have to bear green trees and shrubbery
Fresh and cool besmirched with morning dew:
I have still to reproduce to make my child:
...

And over the lake marge
She wandereth;
A-holding in her hand
A candle – the flame
...

They made me suspect
Suspect that the blue violet
Hides poison in its mystery
And wide-eyed beauty weeping in the glooms
...

ah! the Venetian violin
how lay on the desk unstrung, unseen
by admiring eyes:
much less
...

How white and level the plain
That stretches to the sea-ridge
The sea-ridge beyond which
The sea roars in and out
...

I looked I looked into the seas
From the giddying height
Of rocks down falling to the seas:
And speechless the moon shone
...

My candle in the night I lit
How eerie wild the winds
Roared on the plain and shores
The foaming waves now white now green
...

Upon his breast
Upon his breast
A cross he bore
A cross he bore
...