Humbert Wolfe

(5 January 1885 – 5 January 1940 / Milan)

The Thought - Poem by Humbert Wolfe

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I will not write a poem for you,
because a poem, even the loveliest,
can only do what words can do -
stir the air, and dwindle, and be at rest.

Nor will I hold you with my hands, because
the bones of my hands on yours would press,
and you'd say after, 'Mortal was,
and crumbling, that lover's tenderness.'

But I will hold you in a thought without moving
spirit or desire or will
for I know no other way of loving,
that endures when the heart is still.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 3, 2012



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