Echo
Christina Rossetti c.1860
Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
as sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.
O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
watch the slow door
that opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
my very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago
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Runaway
Kenneth Rexroth
There are sparkles of rain on the bright
hair over your forehead;
Your eyes are wet and your lips
wet and cold, your cheek rigid with cold.
Why have you stayed
away so long, why have you only
come to me late at night
after walking for hours in wind and rain?
Take off your dress and stockings;
Sit in the deep chair before the fire.
I will warm your feet in my hands;
I will warm your breasts and thighs with kisses.
I wish I could build a fire
in you that would never go out.
I wish I could be sure that deep in you
was a magnet to draw you always home.
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