Poemas sobre el tema: maiden

Poemas sobre el tema «maiden» en Poets.by.

SoñadorMaxwell Bodenheim

Change

I came upon a maiden Blowing rose petals in the air And catching them, as they fell, Upon quick fingertips Her laugh fell lighter than the petals And dropped little gestures upon my forehead. I gave her sadness and she blew it up As she had blown the rose petals: And it almost seemed joy as her fingers caught it. But I was only a wanderer plaited with dust, Who gave her new petals to play with.
TristeEdward Shanks

An Old Song

The wild duck fly over From river to river And so the young lover Goes roving for ever. They fly together, He walks alone : No maiden can tether Him with her moan. At the bursting of blossom On her breast his head ; He has left her bosom Ere the apples are red. Across the valley, Singing he goes. In highway and alley He seeks a new rose.
TristeDora Sigerson Shorter

The Heart of a Maid

In the heart of a rose Lies the heart of a maid ; If you be not afraid You will wear it. Who knows ? In the pink of its bloom, Lay your lips to her cheek ; Since a rose cannot speak, And you gain the perfume. If the dews on the leaf Are the tears from her eyes ; If she withers and dies, Why, you have the belief, That a rose cannot speak, Though the heart of a maid In its bosom must fade. And with fading must break.
SoñadorAdelaide Crapsey

Autumn

Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn the maiden turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than Spring's skies her skies shine Tender, and frailer Bloom than plum-bloom or almond Lies on her hillsides, her fields Misted, faint-flushing. Ah, lovelier Is her refusal than Yielding, who pauses with grave Backward smiling, with light Unforgettable touch of Fingers withdrawn. . . Pauses, lo Vanishes . . . fugitive, wistful. . . .