Wolfger's

page of poetry

Poetry last updated on May 16th, 1998
If you have any original poems to contribute, please submit them to Wolfger.

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May 16th, 1998
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Absent Yet Present

 As the flight of a river
That flows to the sea
My soul rushes ever
In tumult to thee.

A twofold existence
I am where thou art:
My heart in the distance
Beats close to thy heart.

Look up, I am near thee,
I gaze on thy face:
I see thee, I hear thee,
I feel thine embrace.

As the magnet's control on
The steel it draws to it,
Is the charm of thy soul on
The thoughts that pursue it.

And absence but brightens
The eyes that I miss,
And custom but heightens
The spell of thy kiss.

It is not from duty,
Though that may be owed,-
It is not from beauty,
Though that be bestowed:

But all that I care for,
And all that I know,
Is that, without wherefore,
I worship thee so.

Through granite it breaketh
A tree to the ray:
As a dreamer forsaketh
The grief of the day,

My soul in its fever
Escapes unto thee:
O dream to the griever!
O light to the tree!

A twofold existence
I am where thou art:
Hark, hear in the distance
The beat of my heart!
Edward Bulwer-Lytton
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May 13th, 1998
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Missing You

 Thoughts adrift
On a sable sea
Sailing cloud-born 'cross the world
To wherever you may be.
Mike Foster
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The Fair Singer

 To make a final conquest of all me,
Love did compose so sweet an enemy,
In whom both beauties to my death agree,
Joining themselves in fatal harmony;
That while she with her eyes my heart does bind,
She with her voice might captivate my mind.

I could have fled from one but singly fair,
My disentangled soul itself might save,
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair.
But how should I avoid to be her slave,
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath
My fetters of the very air I breathe?

It had been easy fighting in some plain,
Where victory might hang in equal choice,
But all resistance against her is vain,
Who has th'advantage both of eyes and voice,
And all my forces needs must be undone,
She having gained both the wind and sun.
Andrew Marvell
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May 9th, 1998
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A White Rose

 The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
Oh, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rosebud,
With a flush on its petal tips;
For the love that is sweetest and purest,
Has a kiss of desire on the lips.
John Boyle O'Reilly
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Summer's End

 The nights get colder,
The air gets crisper,
The winds get bolder,
The songbirds whisper;
The leaves turn brown,
And the trees grow old;
The sun does frown,
As the clouds take hold.
Snowflakes quickly fill the sky,
While I'm watching Summer die.
Mike Foster
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