At Stockholm

We could not speak, although the sudden glow
Of passion mantling to the crimson cheek
Of either, told our tale of love, although
We could not speak.

What need of language, barren and false and bleak,
While our white arms could link each other so,
And fond red lips their partners mutely seek?

What time for language, when our kisses flow
Eloquent, warm, as words are cold and weak? --
Or now -- Ah! sweetheart, even were it so
We could not speak!

Submited by

Monday, July 11, 2011 - 02:09

Poesia Consagrada :

  • Login to post comments
  • 1133 reads
Poor
Okay
Good
Great
Awesome
No votes yet

Aleister Crowley

Aleister Crowley's picture
Offline
Title: Membro
Last seen: 13 years 38 weeks ago
Joined: 07/11/2011
Posts:
Points: 105

Add comment

Login to post comments

other contents of Aleister Crowley

Topic Title Replies Views Last Postsort icon Language
Poesia Consagrada/General California 0 1.141 07/11/2011 - 02:11 English
Poesia Consagrada/General A Ballad of Choosing 0 1.258 07/11/2011 - 02:11 English
Poesia Consagrada/General Ballade de la Jolie Marion 0 1.090 07/11/2011 - 02:09 English
Poesia Consagrada/General At Stockholm 0 1.133 07/11/2011 - 02:09 English
Poesia Consagrada/General At Kiel 0 1.057 07/11/2011 - 02:07 English
Poesia Consagrada/General All Night 0 1.164 07/11/2011 - 02:07 English
Poesia Consagrada/General Alice 0 887 07/11/2011 - 02:06 English
Poesia Consagrada/General After 0 985 07/11/2011 - 02:05 English
Poesia Consagrada/General Ad Lydiam, Ut Secum a Marito Fugeret 0 1.181 07/11/2011 - 02:04 English
Poesia Consagrada/Gothic Ad Lucium 0 1.825 07/11/2011 - 02:03 English