George William Russell
George William Russell Poems
|162.||A New Being||5/7/2012|
|164.||A Call Of The Sidhe||5/4/2012|
|167.||A New World||5/7/2012|
|168.||An Irish Face||5/7/2012|
|172.||A Woman's Voice||5/7/2012|
Comments about George William Russell
A Woman's Voice
HIS head within my bosom lay,
But yet his spirit slipped not through:
I only felt the burning clay
That withered for the cooling dew.
It was but pity when I spoke
And called him to my heart for rest,
And half a mother’s love that woke
Feeling his head upon my breast:
And half the lion’s tenderness
To shield her cubs from hurt or death,
Which, when the serried hunters press,
Makes terrible her wounded breath.
But when the lips I breathed upon
Asked for such love as equals claim—
I looked where all the stars ...
The Great Breath
ITS edges foam'd with amethyst and rose,
Withers once more the old blue flower of day:
There where the ether like a diamond glows,
Its petals fade away.
A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air;
Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant snows;
The great deep thrills--for through it everywhere
The breath of Beauty blows.