A Song [poem by Agnes L. Storrie]

[Editor: This poem by Agnes L. Storrie was published in Poems, 1909.]

A Song.

If I could steal from out your busy life
One moment for mine own,
I’d choose a dreamy twilight — tinted hour,
With deathless memories sown,
And in the scented gloom of forest ways,
I’d turn your truant heart to other days.

I’d pluck a lily from the dreaming pool,
And bid you kiss its core,
And let it whisper of as fair a thing
Your lips have touched before,
And if you saw its beauty faint and fail,
I’d tell your women’s hearts are just as frail.

If I could steal from out your busy life
One moment for mine own,
I’d teach your eyes again their tender glance,
Your voice its vanished tone,
Once more your soul should kneel in prayer to mine,
And life should find again its lost design.

Alas! What madness do I dream? In vain
The broken lily seeks to bloom again,
And ’mid the ashes of Love’s blackened pyre
Shall we find burning still the sacred fire?
I would not deign to take — though all your years
Knelt suppliant at my feet and plead with tears —
I would not deign to take from out your life
One moment for mine own.



Source:
Agnes L. Storrie. Poems, J. W. Kettlewell, Sydney, 1909, pages 116-117

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