A Woman's Voice

     His head within my bosom lay,	
     But yet his spirit slipped not through:	
     I only felt the burning clay	
     That withered for the cooling dew.	
 
     It was but pity when I spoke	        
     And called him to my heart for rest,	
     And half a mother's love that woke	
     Feeling his head upon my breast:	
 
     And half the lion's tenderness	
     To shield her cubs from hurt or death,	        
     Which, when the serried hunters press,	
     Makes terrible her wounded breath.	
 
     But when the lips I breathed upon	
     Asked for such love as equals claim--	
     I looked where all the stars were gone	        
     Burned in the day's immortal flame.

     "Come thou like yon great dawn to me	
     From darkness vanquished, battles done:	
     Flame unto flame shall flow and be	
     Within thy heart and mine as one."

     George William Russell (1867-1935)

[ agger, Tue 16 Sep, :13:51: /digte] - 0 kommentar(er) - link

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