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Poem by Madison Julius Cawein
1 Hold up thy head and crush Thy heart's despair; From thy wan temples brush The tear-wet hair. 2 Look on me thus as I Gaze upon thee; Nor question how nor why Such things can be. 3 Thou thought'st it love! - poor fool! That which was lust! Which made thee, beautiful, Vile as the dust! 4 Thy flesh I craved, thy face! - Love shrinks at this - Now on thy lips to place One farewell kiss! - 5 Weep not, but die! - 'tis given - And so - farewell! - Die! - that which makes death heaven, Makes life a hell.
Madison Julius Cawein
Madison Julius Cawein's other poems:
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