Passion Flowers (Watson)/Passion Flowers
Passion Flowers.
Oh! tremulous blossom, wind-blown and a-quiver,
With tenuous tendrils responsive and fine;
There's a subtile suggestiveness vague and bewildering,
Exhaled on the breath of your mystical vine.
With tenuous tendrils responsive and fine;
There's a subtile suggestiveness vague and bewildering,
Exhaled on the breath of your mystical vine.
How palpitant, pulsing, empurpled, your petals,
How clinging, caressing, and fragrant your touch,
Like the pressure of lips that departing still linger
While half way confessing they've loved overmuch.
How clinging, caressing, and fragrant your touch,
Like the pressure of lips that departing still linger
While half way confessing they've loved overmuch.
Do you guess, dimly, down in your heart, Virgin Blossom,
That the loves of a life are its most precious dower,
And yet that full oft they are transient and fleeting,
And fragile and short-lived as you, Passion Flower?
That the loves of a life are its most precious dower,
And yet that full oft they are transient and fleeting,
And fragile and short-lived as you, Passion Flower?
It is true; but my passionate heart's all a-quiver
With love—love supreme—which, I vow, shall endure,
Till the worlds and the suns and the mad circling planets
Again are but chaos—eternal and pure.
With love—love supreme—which, I vow, shall endure,
Till the worlds and the suns and the mad circling planets
Again are but chaos—eternal and pure.