Friday, June 28, 2013

A Love Symphony and Waterhouse

My Sweet Rose (aka The Soul of A Rose), 1908, John William Waterhouse
Along the garden ways just now
I heard the flowers speak;
The white rose told me of your brow,
The red rose of your cheek;
The lily of your bended head,
The bindweed of your hair:
Each looked its loveliest and said
You were more fair.
Ophelia, 1889, John William Waterhouse, Private Collection

I went into the wood anon,
And heard the wild birds sing
How sweet you were; they warbled on,
Piped, trilled the self-same thing.
Thrush, blackbird, linnet, without pause,
The burden did repeat,
And still began again because
You were more sweet.

Miranda, John William Waterhouse

And then I went down to the sea,
And heard it murmuring too,
Part of an ancient mystery,
All made of me and you.
How many a thousand years ago
I loved, and you were sweet--
Longer I could not stay, and so
I fled back to your feet. 




~ William Edgar O'Shaughnessy

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