To A Friend

Yesterday, in one of my favourite book stores, I found a new gem. A tiny book of love poems of the Macmillan Collector’s Library. Needless to say, it ended up in my basket and now has its own place on my bookshelf. But don’t worry, it won’t stay there. The ones that strike a chord will also end up here. Starting with this one, by imagist American poet Amy Lowell.

I ask but one thing of you, only one.
That you will always be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue
All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone
Out into the night. Alas, how few
There are who strike in us a chord we knew
Existed, but so seldom heard its tone
We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings
And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings
To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!

Amy Lowell

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