This poem of the day sounds like it could easily be a song.
Von Rensselae, an American author, was the first woman architectural critic and she was president of the Public Education Association of New York.
Architecture and education. That's one smart lit chick. And now onto... love...
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| When Dreams Come True by Leonid Afremov from here |
"Love's Prisoner"
Mariana Griswold Van Rensselaer (1851-1934)
Sweet love has twined his fingers in my hair,
And laid his hand across my wondering eyes.
I cannot move save in the narrow space
Of his strong arms' embrace,
Nor see but only in my own heart where
His image lies.
How can I tell,
Emprisoned so well,
If in the outer world be sunset or sunrise?
Sweet Love has laid his hand across my eyes.
Sweet Love has loosed his fingers from my hair,
His lifted hand has left my eyelids wet.
I cannot move save to pursue his fleet
And unreturning feet,
Nor see but in my ruined heart, and there
His face lies yet.
How should I know,
Distraught and blinded so,
If in the outer world be sunrise or sunset?
Sweet Love has freed my eyes, but they are wet.
* * *
What's your interpretation of this poem?
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