display | more...

Stephen Crane

                    Love forgive me if I wish you grief
                    For in your grief
                    You huddle to my breast
                    And for it
                    Would I pay the price of your grief

                    You walk among men
                    And all men do not surrender
                    And this I understand
                    That love reaches his hand
                    In mercy to me.

                    He had your picture in his room
                    A scurvy traitor picture
                    And he smiled
                    - Merely a fat complacence
                    Of men who know fine women -
                    And thus I divided with him
                    A part of my love

                    Fool, not to know that thy little shoe
                    Can make men weep!
                    - Some men weep.
                    I weep and I gnash
                    And I love the little shoe
                    The little, little shoe.

                    God give me medals
                    God give me loud honors
                    That I may strut before you, sweetheart
                    And be worthy of -
                    - The love I bear you.

                    Now let me crunch you
                    With full weight of affrighted love
                    I doubted you
                    - I doubted you -
                    And in this short doubting
                    My love grew like a genie
                    For my further undoing.

                    Beware of my Mends
                    Be not in speech too ñivil
                    For in all courtesy
                    My weak heart sees spectres,
                    Mists of desires
                    Arising from the lips of my chosen
                    Be not civil.

                    The flower I gave thee once
                    Was incident to a stride
                    A detail of a gesture
                    But search those pale petals
                    And see engraven thereon
                    A record of my intention.

This poem is public domain

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.