Dead love, by treason slain, lies stark,
White as a dead stark-stricken dove:
None that pass by him pause to mark
Dead love.
His heart, that strained and yearned and strove
As toward the sundawn strives the lark,
Is cold as all the old joy thereof.
Dead men, re-risen from dust, may hark
When rings the trumpet blown above:
It will not raise from out the dark
Dead love.
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Comments
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love was never better when dead!
Swinburnes edgy imagination contrasts with the structural styles that were found popular in the 1800s with the Romantics..he seems to be the anithesis to Metaphysical ideas...a delve ino irrational states of parapsychology that have Poes influence within perhaps and also precurses the Surrealist movement to come, a kind of debauched but intelligent look at the world and especially the torn conflict of introverted and estranged poetic thoughts. Interesting and provacative poet...delicious poem. -
wonderful....i love the topic.....
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good point catch the demon makes. shows the intellect level of some people.
This is a topic i think about a little too often i think. Touching.... -
Lovely bit of darkness. The words bring out a somber mood that resonates like the dying echo of an olf fashioned grandfather clocks chime.
By the way, why are people commenting on a poet that has been dead for almost 100 years, with "keep writing?" I doubt that the work was even truly read, much less appreciated. -
aww such a touching piece... "'the lady in black awaits her love...' what darling poetry touched tears upon cold eyes...
a little write about the touching emotoion that doesnt always happen by.. yet rides away like a thief in the night... should thee vanish before my eyes ... will you lay kiss upon your cold cheek next time... "
I love this poem you have wrote as I have included my own that seemed to fit just fine.. I hope to read more of you later in time... *props*
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i like the poem keep wrting
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great job,keep it up!
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