Song of Life
Maiden of the laughing eyes,
Primrose-kirtled, winged, free,
Virgin daughter of the skies—
Joy—whom gods and mortals prize,
Share thy smiles with me!
Yet—lest I, unheeding, borrow
Pleasure that to-day endears
And benumbs the heart to-morrow—
Turn not wholly from me, Sorrow!
Let me share thy tears!
Give me of thy fullness, Life!
Pulse and passion, power, breath,
Vision pure, heroic strife,—
Give me of thy fullness, Life!—
Nor deny me death!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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True Love
True love is not a conquest won,
But a perpetual winning,
A tireless service bravely done
And ever new-beginning;
Gold will not buy it for to-day
Nor keep it for to-morrow,
From Pleasure's paths it turns away,
To make its bed with Sorrow.
White, Aphrodite, are thy doves,
But 'neath their snows are burning
Undying flames, and he who loves
Aspires with flame-like yearning;
Aspires unto a far-off bliss
Whose vision makes him younger,
And moved to rapture by thy kiss,
Still for thy soul doth hunger!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Heart of Love
I know a place warm-sheltered from the world—
A place secure, in mild conditions blest,
Where fainting Toil, the homespun banner furled,
May pause awhile and rest:
I know a place where fires burn late,
And mercy, waiting at the gate,
Still welcomes the oppress'd!
I know a shrine more rich than Plutus' fane,
An altar fragrant with celestial dew,
Where wavering souls their virgin faiths regain
And energies renew.
I know a garden fair and free,
Where life yet wears, unfadingly,
Lost Eden's roseate hue!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Vagrant
The love that has no memories and no hope,
Is like the weed that blossoms for an hour;
That putting forth its one imperfect flower,
Straightway doth languish. It can neither cope
With the strong tempest, nor with the mild power
Of mellow sunlight, nor with the soft shower.
It has no root in nature, and it dies,
Leaving no fragrance and no fruit behind;
And none lament it, nor return to find
Its bed when, beaten low, it bruisèd lies:
Unfriended, and forsaken of its kind,
It blows about, at mercy of the wind.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Might I Return
Might I return to that May-day of gladness
When life is young, and all its promise fair;
Might I efface the memory of sadness,
And put away the weary load of care,—
To pluck the rose that in Time's Eden blows,
I would not go, were I to miss you there!
Might I ascend unto those realms of rapture
Whose amaranthine joys fade not again,
Might I the secrets of Elysium capture,
And find fruition for my longings vain,—
I would forego these dear delights, to know
That you were with me, and to share your pain.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Longing
The lilacs blossom at the door,
The early rose
Whispers a promise to her buds,
And they unclose.
There is a perfume everywhere,
A breath of song,
A sense of some divine return
For waiting long.
Who knows but some imprisoned joy
From bondage breaks,—
Some exiled and enchanted hope
From dreams awakes?
Who knows but you are coming back
To comfort me
For all the languor and the pain,
Persephone?
[...] Read more
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Death
I am the key that parts the gates of Fame;
I am the cloak that covers cowering Shame;
I am the final goal of every race;
I am the storm-tossed spirit's resting-place:
The messenger of sure and swift relief,
Welcomed with wailings and reproachful grief;
The friend of those that have no friend but me,
I break all chains, and set all captives free.
I am the cloud that, when Earth's day is done,
An instant veils an unextinguished sun;
I am the brooding hush that follows strife,
The waking from a dream that Man calls—Life!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Difference
Had Henley died, his course half run—
Had Henley died, and Stevenson
Been left on earth, of him to write,
He would have chosen to indite
His name in generous phrase—or none.
No envious humor, cold and dun,
Had marred the vesture he had spun,
All luminous, to clothe his knight—
Had Henley died!
Ah, well! at rest—poor Stevenson!—
Safe in our hearts his place is won.
There love shall still his love requite,
His faults divinely veiled from sight,
Whose tears had fallen in benison,
Had Henley died!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Mine and Thine (1904)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Be Thou My Guide
Be Thou my guide, and I will walk in darkness
As one who treads the beamy heights of day,
Feeling a gladness amidst desert sadness,
And breathing vernal fragrance all the way.
Be Thou my wealth, and, reft of all besides Thee,
I will forget the strife for meaner things,
Blest in the sweetness of thy rare completeness,
And opulent beyond the dream of kings.
Be Thou my strength, O lowly One and saintly!
And, though unvisioned ills about me throng,
Though danger woo me and deceit pursue me,
Yet in the thought of Thee I will be strong!
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wings
That Love has wings the poets say;
White wings where lights and shadows play,
Swift wings, that sail from shore to shore,
From sea to sea, or lightly soar
To happy Edens far away.
Where'er they gleam the world grows gay,
December smiles, and rosy May
With fluttering transport feels once more
That Love has wings.
But Youth is fond, and hearts are clay,
And faults deceive, and doubts betray,
And some forget the winning lore
That drew the blessing to their door,
And learn too late—ah, well-a-day!—
That Love has wings.
poem by Florence Earle Coates from Poems (1898)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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