On the Twilight Headland–Theseus and Ariadne
Dear Love, lean nearer--let your finger-tips Reach till they touch the rose within my palm. Through the hushed dusk I feel the fragrant balm Of your faint breathing as the tired breast dips And rises, drowsful as a bee that sips Honey too avid from the numbing flowers. . . Close the sad eyes, and for one little hour Let slumber soothe the dear, leave-taking lips. Ah, sweet! were it not better for each heart Before the cruel years achieve their will-- For us, who must irrevocably part, To pass the lintel of the door of Death Lip touching lip, I breathing faintly still The poignant sweetness of your fading breath?
Lloyd Mifflin’s other poems:
