A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)
He faints with hope and fear. It is the hour.
Distant, across the thundering organ-swell,
In sweet discord from the cathedral-tower,
Fall the faint chimes and the thrice-sequent bell.
Over the crowd his eye uneasy roves.
He sees a plume, a fur; his heart dilates —
Soars . . . and then sinks again. It is not hers he loves.
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
Braided with streams of silver incense rise
The antique prayers and ponderous antiphones.
`Gloria Patri’ echoes to the skies;
`Nunc et in saecula’ the choir intones.
He marks not the monotonous refrain,
The priest that serves nor him that celebrates,
But ever scans the aisle for his blonde head. . . . In vain!
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
How like a flower seemed the perfumed place
Where the sweet flesh lay loveliest to kiss;
And her white hands in what delicious ways,
With what unfeigned caresses, answered his!
Each tender charm intolerable to lose,
Each happy scene his fancy recreates.
And he calls out her name and spreads his arms . . . No use!
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
But the long vespers close. The priest on high
Raises the thing that Christ’s own flesh enforms;
And down the Gothic nave the crowd flows by
And through the portal’s carven entry swarms.
Maddened he peers upon each passing face
Till the long drab procession terminates.
No princess passes out with proud majestic pace.
She has not come, the woman that he waits.
Back in the empty silent church alone
He walks with aching heart. A white-robed boy
Puts out the altar-candles one by one,
Even as by inches darkens all his joy.
He dreams of the sweet night their lips first met,
And groans — and turns to leave — and hesitates . . .
Poor stricken heart, he will, he can not fancy yet
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
But in an arch where deepest shadows fall
He sits and studies the old, storied panes,
And the calm crucifix that from the wall
Looks on a world that quavers and complains.
Hopeless, abandoned, desolate, aghast,
On modes of violent death he meditates.
And the tower-clock tolls five, and he admits at last,
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
Through the stained rose the winter daylight dies,
And all the tide of anguish unrepressed
Swells in his throat and gathers in his eyes;
He kneels and bows his head upon his breast,
And feigns a prayer to hide his burning tears,
While the satanic voice reiterates
`Tonight, tomorrow, nay, nor all the impending years,
She will not come,’ the woman that he waits.
Fond, fervent heart of life’s enamored spring,
So true, so confident, so passing fair,
That thought of Love as some sweet, tender thing,
And not as war, red tooth and nail laid bare,
How in that hour its innocence was slain,
How from that hour our disillusion dates,
When first we learned thy sense, ironical refrain,
She will not come, the woman that he waits.
A few random poems:
- I Call That True Love by Shel Silverstein
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- Fairy Land v by William Shakespeare
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- A Faery’s Lament poem – Ysabelle Moriarty poems | Poetry Monster
- Владимир Набоков – Скитальцы
- Robert Burns: Farewell To Eliza:
- Жан де Лафонтен – Львиный указ
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- Ecologue I by Virgil
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External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Robert Burns: Written By Somebody On The Window Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.: Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.
- Robert Burns: To Miss Ferrier: Enclosing the Elegy on Sir J. H. Blair.
- Robert Burns: Impromptu On Carron Iron Works:
- Robert Burns: Elegy On The Death Of Sir James Hunter Blair:
- Robert Burns: On The Death Of John M’Leod, Esq,: Brother to a young Lady, a particular friend of the Author’s.
- Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Jean Scott:
- Robert Burns: The Bard At Inverary:
- Robert Burns: Elegy On “Stella”: The following poem is the work of some hapless son of the Muses who deserved a better fate. There is a great deal of “The voice of Cona” in his solitary, mournful notes; and had the sentiments been clothed in Shenstone’s language, they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet.-R.B.
- Robert Burns: Burlesque Lament For The Absence Of William Creech, Publisher:
- Robert Burns: Epigram To Miss Ainslie In Church: Who was looking up the text during sermon.
- Robert Burns: Address To Wm. Tytler, Esq., Of Woodhouselee: With an Impression of the Author’s Portrait.
- Robert Burns: Hey, Ca’ Thro’ – Boat song:
- Robert Burns: Epitaph For Mr. William Michie: Schoolmaster of Cleish Parish, Fifeshire.
- Robert Burns: Epitaph For William Nicol, Of The High School, Edinburgh:
- Robert Burns: Lines Written Under The Picture Of The Celebrated Miss Burns:
- Robert Burns: A Bottle And Friend:
- Robert Burns: On Elphinstone’s Translation Of Martial’s Epigrams:
- Robert Burns: The Book-Worms:
- Robert Burns: Epigram Addressed To An Artist:
- Robert Burns: Epigram At Roslin Inn:
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Alan Seeger (1888-1916) was an American war poet who fought and died in World War I during the Battle of the Somme, serving in the French Foreign Legion. Seeger was the brother of Charles Seeger, a noted American pacifist and musicologist and the uncle of folk musician, Pete Seeger.