O, how the light drifts from the hemlock <br />grove, <br />How in the night disarmed Desires do rove ! <br />A sister to the dumb hydrangea thou, <br />A mystery born of the Then and Now. <br />The color on thy clouded face — ah me ! <br />Is't from the embers that still burn in thee? <br />Has not the forge of suffering robbed thee of <br />The flame with which weak mortals feed their <br />love? <br />Wilt thou, no longer fancying the light. <br />Conjure a virgin flame from darkest night? <br />And feed it with the salvias of a soul. <br />That would, but yet— alas ! she seeks the Whole. <br />The hand that broke the screen, the heart that <br />lied,— <br />Where are they? Come, the path of truth is <br />wide. <br />The silvery cataracts of roaring rills <br />Meander in the shadows of the hills ; <br />And their bass music, — does it not arise <br />From that descent that leads up to the skies? <br />O how disarmed Desire uprises, how — <br />Does not the darkness crown the Lightning's <br />brow ? <br />Yet how I wish, yet how I shrink, when I <br />Behold thee — ah, she's ever in mine eye ! <br />If thy pink, blue and golden hues disclose <br />The secret, might not that undo the rose? <br />Thou sister to the dumb hydrangea, when <br />Will all thy sombre musings rise again? <br />O, how the light drifts from the hemlock grove, <br />How in the night disarmed Desires do rove<br /><br />Ameen Rihani<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/disarmed-desire/
