Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/175

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The Death Watch

Fast burn the candles—fast.
She is long dying.

A flower fades in the sun,
The other flowers are weeping;
See! Dawn's at last begun.
Dead—or but sleeping?

A star falls, tired from flight,
The other stars are flying;
It is o'erpast, the night—
She is long dying.


INTUITION

My lover has no lute to sing to me,
My lover has no song to mark me fair;
His lips are strong and silent utterly,
He lays no foolish kiss upon my hair.

My lover does not hold within his eyes,
Where all may see, a torch of love aglow.
No tears he gives to me, nor any sighs.
My lover speaks not but I know, I know!

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