Muriel Stuart Poems
|43.||Forgotten Dead, I Salute You||12/31/2002|
|45.||A Song For Old Love||4/12/2010|
|47.||At A Life's End||1/1/2004|
|48.||Madala Goes By The Orphanage||4/12/2010|
|49.||In The Orchard||12/31/2002|
Comments about Muriel Stuart
At A Life's End
COME here, rekindle the old fire,
This last night leave no lamp unlit!
In later days we twain shall sit,
Remembering the joys of it,--
The warmth and sweetness of desire.
Here, ere we part, again live o'er
The way we went,--the hour,--the kiss;
Let Love with magic hand of his
Rebuild the mirage of our bliss
In desert days that wend before.
Swart night of August! when we stood
Heart-locked beside the window-pane!
The thunder quickening again
The laggard pulses of the rain,
Wrung a few drops as hot as blood.
Outside we heard ...
Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry -
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.
In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That will drink deeply of a century's streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.