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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464722" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Leda</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Do you remember, Leda?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are those who love, to whom Love brings<br>Great gladness: such things have not I.<br>Love looks and has no mercy, brings<br>Long doom to others. Such was I.<br>Heart breaking hand upon the lute<br>Long last made musical by you?<br>Sharp bird-beak in the swelling fruit,<br>Or raise the eyelids of these flowers?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dare not watch that hidden pool,<br>Nor see the wild bird's sudden wing<br>Lifting the wide, brown shaken pool,<br>But round me falls that secret wing,<br>And in that sharp, perverse, sweet pain<br>That is half-terror and half-bliss<br>My withered hands are curled on pain<br>That were so wide once, after bliss.<br>And gold is springing in my hair<br>As my thought spring and flower with it,<br>Though I sit hid in my grey hair,<br>Without love or the pain of it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, oh my Swan, if love have wings,<br>As the gods tell us, you were love<br>Who took and broke me with those wings.<br>I, weak, and being far gone in love<br>Let blushless things be breathed and done-<br>Things flowered out now in bitter fruit<br>That once done are no more undone<br>Than last year's frost and last year's fruit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For what has come of love and me<br>Who knew the first joy that loving is?<br>Where has love led and beckoned me<br>But to the end where nothing is?<br>I have seen my blood beat out again<br>Red in the hands of all my line,<br>My sin has swelled and flowered again<br>Corrupt and fierce through Sparta's line.<br>Bred through me-bred through delicate hands<br>And wandering eyes and wanton lips,<br>Sighing after strange flesh as sighed these lips,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Straying after new sin as strayed these hands.<br>Mother of Helen! She whose breasts<br>To new desires unshaped the world;<br>Above Troy's summit towered these breasts<br>Helen who wantoned with the world!<br>Helen is dead (she had love enough<br>To mock at doom and laugh at shrine)<br>And Clytemnestra, quiet enough<br>To-night beneath Apollo's shrine.<br>And I am left, the source, the spring<br>Of all their madness. They are dead<br>While I still sit here, the old spring<br>That fouled them flows above the dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I have paid. I have borne enough.<br>I am very old in love and woe.<br>For all souls these things are enough-<br>Who have known love are the friends of woe.<br>There those who love, and who escape,<br>There are those who love and do not die.<br>I loved, and there was no escape,<br>Long since I died and daily die.<br>And death alone makes hate and love<br>Friends with each other and with sleep . . .<br>All's quiet here that once was love,<br>This that is left belongs to sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Muriel+Stuart">Muriel Stuart</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=464722" data-title="Leda de Muriel Stuart" data-description="Do you remember, Leda?

There are those who love, to whom Love brings
Great gladness: such things have not I.
Love looks and has no mercy, brings
Long doom to others. Such was I.
Heart breaking hand upon the lute
Long last made musical by you?
Sha..."></div>
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