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Apr. 2nd, 2014 05:57 pmNatalie Clifford Barney
How write the beat of love, the very throb,
The rhythm of our veins’ deep eloquence?
How fix that darkness-rending final sob,
That perfect swoon of each united sense.
The full-sailed rising of your body’s sweep
—- Adrift and safe on joy’s last tidal wave —-
Will toss you on the silver sands of sleep,
Forgetful of the ecstacy you gave.
Your breath ebbs restful as the falling tide:
A sea becalmed! . . Lay me in valleyed part
Of breasts whose undulating crests subside -—
Ah how they marked the high beats of your heart!
How write the beat of love, the very throb,
The rhythm of our veins’ deep eloquence?
How fix that darkness-rending final sob,
That perfect swoon of each united sense.
The full-sailed rising of your body’s sweep
—- Adrift and safe on joy’s last tidal wave —-
Will toss you on the silver sands of sleep,
Forgetful of the ecstacy you gave.
Your breath ebbs restful as the falling tide:
A sea becalmed! . . Lay me in valleyed part
Of breasts whose undulating crests subside -—
Ah how they marked the high beats of your heart!