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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348475" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love Motives</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">To You. <br> SO you have come at last! <br> And we nestle, each in each, <br> As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach; <br> Merged in each other quite, <br> Clinging, as in the tresses of trees dallies the troubadour night; <br> Faint as a perfume, soft as wine, <br> Yielding as moonlight—mine, all mine— <br> So I have found you at last! <br> I dreamed; we dare not meet: <br> The time is yet too soon; <br> Swept with the tumult of perfect love, our souls from this life would swoon— <br> For the fusion of our lives <br> Is the sole great goal to which the vast creation vaguely drives; <br> And only when I kiss your face <br> Shall the last great trumpet shatter Space— <br> I dreamed; we dare not meet! <br> Yet somewhere, hungry-eyed, <br> You lie and listen with tears, <br> Clogged with the flesh, and dulled with the sodden heritage of the years. <br> And I am alien, lone, <br> <br> Hedged with the palisades of self, shut in—a soul unknown. <br> You, fashioned for me from Time's first day, <br> I, moulded for you ere that dawn was grey, <br> Wait hidden, hungry-eyed! <br> I lie in the lonely night; <br> And you?—perhaps so near <br> That if I should whisper your sweet soul-name you would joyously leap and hear! <br> And yet perhaps so far, <br> Drowned in the cosmic mist beyond the swirl of the farthest star; <br> But over the universe yawning between, <br> With wistful eyes you listen and lean, <br> Alone in the lonely night! <br> Perhaps your thirsty arms <br> Some stranger youth entwine, <br> And you will yield him thin, faint kisses, thinking his lips are mine; <br> He thinking that unawares <br> He has caught, as once in a dream he caught, that miracle-glance of hers. <br> The pathos of the thing that seems! <br> Each clasping memories, kissing dreams. <br> In passionate-thirsty arms! <br> <br> So you will yearn through life, <br> Or maybe you did not wait: <br> You married him, and his neutral smile you learnt to sullenly hate; <br> Or you have lived a lie, <br> And drank the mockery of his lips, believing that he was I. <br> You dreamed, content that you loved him true, <br> But the soul of your soul was dead to you— <br> So I must yearn through life! <br> Or, starving and passionate still, <br> To your dreams you were bravely true; <br> You told the Night your secrets drear, and he laughed back at you; <br> And even when you dreamed <br> You heard his merciless laughter ring, and you sprang awake and screamed; <br> Till Age kissed you with a kiss that sears, <br> And you faded and withered with the years, <br> Starving and passionate still! <br> But, hush! I had almost heard: <br> Last night I dreamed your name; <br> Like the soft, white tread of a faint, cool cloud to my desolate sky it came; <br> Like a moth it drifted away, <br> <br> And into the flame of the dawn it fluttered, dying into the day. <br> Yet the wind in the whispering leaves <br> The moan of your sobbing weaves— <br> Hush! I had almost heard. <br> Yet I should know your face! <br> As mine, all mine, I claim <br> That coil of hair that over your bosom smoulders— a yellow flame; <br> And the cool, dim-curtained eyes, <br> The crescent of your imperious chin, and the little moist mouth that cries. <br> I have heard through the din of the years <br> Your voice, with its tincture of tears— <br> Yes, I remember your face! <br> Once in the drifting crowd <br> I thought I had found a clue— <br> A pale face pealed like an organ-note, and yet— oh! my heart—not you! <br> She had your look, the same <br> Ineffable sorrow of glad young eyes; but all the rest was shame. <br> Perhaps she saw—for her eyes were wet— <br> In me the soul she had one time met <br> In eternity's drifting crowd! <br> <br> Perhaps 't is the desert of years <br> That severs each from each, <br> And out of the cavernous centuries to each other we blindly reach. <br> You blossomed so long ago <br> That only the Dawn and the Spring remember, and little, so little, they know! <br> You wait on the hill of the first white morn, <br> Straining dead eyes to me, unborn, <br> Across the desert of years. <br> Or when I am dead at last, <br> And my sovereignty have won, <br> As merged in the dust of the gradual Past, unliving, I live on, <br> You will rise with some far-off Spring, <br> And back to the drear, dead days that were mine your piteous glance will fling. <br> But, hush! I shall come in the rain-kissed night <br> And whisper the words of our marriage-rite— <br> So I shall find you at last! <br> Yet if we met.… <br> I dreamed; we dare not meet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Henry+Adams">Arthur Henry Adams</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348475" data-title="Love Motives de Arthur Henry Adams" data-description="To You. 
 SO you have come at last! 
 And we nestle, each in each, 
 As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach; 
 Merged in each other quite, 
 Clinging, as in the tresses of trees dallies the troubadour night; 
 Fai..."></div>
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