Robert Seyendal – Three Poems (Provincial Review – May 1952)


April, like soft sandalroot;
With golden winds and
Doves rustling among roseleaves.
The trembling flowers,
Dew-jeweled cups,
Stain the hidden dust,
Like maiden’s lips.


Lot’s forest strangely sleeps,
Hovering tears, prawn shadows;
Darkly glowing, floated fair death.
Wondrously, abandoned nightshade searched
The Sepulcher….
Calm echoes of nothingness
Pursue the delicate, amber paean.


Paler birds crush her tresses,
The stream loses its blue
And dies unknown.
Bitter blossom dreams,
Like fair lips are lily soft
And forget the sands and the seasons.
Together their green lips meet
And forget….


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