Private Manhattan

"TELEPATHY"

When Day is dead, and Eve broods dim

O'er fading scene and sound, 

When grey haze veils the city, 

A dream-wall round and round, 

Soundless as sleep from o'er the sea, 

Wingeth thy thought through the dusk to me.

Rapture of the rest on the silent land, 

On the sea, on the long, lone dune, 

The moon a-drowse in a dappled sky, 

Where towers and tall spires swoon, 

And through the dusk, a homing dove, 

Thy thought, with rest to me, my love.

Another from Lays and Lyrics by J.K. (Jessie Kerr) Lawson my Great, Great Grandmother circa 1913
Photo © Leigh Viner 2013 available here

"The Flight of Love"

© Leigh Viner 2012

THE FLIGHT OF LOVE

A wind in the wood went wailing,

As slow the sun sank down; A voice in the wind prevailing,

" O Love, how art thou flown !" And the old, old hills, with feet moss-grown, The old cry heard, and from each throne

Sent back an echo wailing,

" O Love, how art thou flown !"

A sound from the sea came wailing,

As slow the moon uprose;

A voice in the tide prevailing,

The tide that ebbs and flows :

" O Love, how art thou flown !

Thou wert so sweet, so sweet,

And life so fleet, so fleet. What wouldst thou more than soul for soul?" Sobbed the long waves that shoreward roll,

" O Love, how art thou flown !"

I heard the wind, and I heard the sea, And surely they were but a part of me ;

The wail of the wind and the sob of the sea, Woke the old pain, broke the heart of me; ( ) hush thee, Wind ; be still, sad Sea, Love will never, ah, never, come back to me.

And still the wind goes wailing

Through the lone aisles of the years,

While smiles the moon, and all the tides Are tides of human tears.

For love still comes, and love still goes; Day brings no joy, night no repose, And deep in the heart the hurt abides, While sigh the winds, and moan the tides, " O Love, how thou art flown !"

A poem I just happily discovered written by my Great, Great Grandmother ~Mrs. J. K. Lawson