Louisa Sarah Bevington

Louisa Sarah Bevington Poems

OUR oneness is the wrestlers', fierce and close,
Thrusting and thrust;
One life in dual effort for one prize,--

PURPLE headland over yonder,
Fleecy, sun-extinguished moon,
I am here alone, and ponder
On the theme of Afternoon.


YOU ask me where love fails me?--what I hate?
I cannot blame, for all, I hold, is fate;
Yet there are hateful, unblameworthy things

LOVE that is alone with love
Makes solitudes of throngs;
Then why not songs of silences,--
Sweet silences of songs?

OH, when have after-days or evenings brought
Forgiveness home to penitence downcast?
Oh, when has trust been perfect,--honour fast,--

The most beautiful thing around or above
Is Love, true Love:
The beautiful thing can more beautiful be
If its life be free.

I WANDERED yesternight 'twixt sleep and sleep
On the wild outmost coast of consciousness,
Where beat forever waves of paradox,

FULL of songs he woke one morning,
Every song a weighty wonder
Holding universal being
Newly dressed in words of thunder.

A TEAR welled up from a poet heart
And fell on a rose;
Lay there, bitter, and made it smart,--
The red, red rose!

SWEET were the faiths our wishes bred; cruel is faithless fate;
All things show good or evil as we love them or we hate;

How have you managed it? bright busy bee!
You are all of you useful, yet each of you free.

(A Tale for the Times.)

He had closed his volume of theorie;
He rose from his restful reverie

I SPEAK to women--woman I;
I speak to one more heart beside;
Whatever sin may e'er betide,
But one sin damneth utterly.

THERE goes a wandering soul in desert places;
(Good Lord, deliver!)
About its way lie dumb, with livid faces,

ONCE the question was to know
Why you came, and why would go,
Once it seem to import so
That I should approve you;


A fog and a blur,
A hum and a whirr,
And large mellow lights that are slowly dawning;

LO! one whose back was sunward, caught the eye
Of one who faced some horror in the sky.

TILL the mist passes, and ye can descry
Why hearts for ages loved the love-shed blood
Of a pure Christ, and praised a humble God,

Are you cold, or are you lukewarm
You may freely have your say;
When we've time we'll read your musings,
But 'tis daring wins the day.

NO theme for song--you say--the strength of man?
Only his tyrant passion? Man, the slave,
Fit theme for hymning? Never man, the brave,

The Best Poem Of Louisa Sarah Bevington


OUR oneness is the wrestlers', fierce and close,
Thrusting and thrust;
One life in dual effort for one prize,--
We fight, and must;
For soul with soul does battle evermore
Till love be trust.

Our distance is love's severance; sense divides,
Each is but each;
Never the very hidden spirit of thee
My life doth reach;
Twain! since we love athwart the gulf that needs
Kisses and speech.

Ah! wrestle closelier! we draw nearer so
Than any bliss
Can bring twain souls who would be whole and one,
Too near to kiss:
To be one thought, one voice before we die,--
Wrestle for this.

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