Lionel Pigot Johnson Poems

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The Dark Angel

DARK Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!

The Destroyer Of A Soul

I HATE you with a necessary hate.
First, I sought patience: passionate was she:
My patience turned in very scorn of me,

In Memory

Ah! fair face gone from sight,
With all its light
Of eyes that pierced the deep!
Oh human night!

To Morfydd

A VOICE on the winds,
A voice by the waters,
Wanders and cries:
Oh! what are the winds?

Ways Of War

A TERRIBLE and splendid trust,
Heartens the host of Innisfail;
Their dream is of the swift sword-thrust;
The lightning glory of the Gael.

Doctor Major

Why, no Sir! If a barren rascal cries,
That he is most in love with pleasing woe,

Mystic And Cavalier

GO from me: I am one of those who fall.
What! hath no cold wind swept your heart at all,
In my sad company? Before the end,


SUMMER lightning, and rich rain:
Roses perfume the hot air.
All the breathless night is faint,


To Olivier Georges Destrée

IN Merioneth, over the sad moor
Drives the rain, the cold wind blows:

A Friend

All, that he came to give,
He gave, and went again:
I have seen one man live,
I have seen one man reign,