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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - My Only Title
Work rating: Low

My only title to her grace
 Is her sad, too silent face;
 All my right to call her mine
 The twin tears that on it shine,
 Tears that tell of griefs long hid
 In the shadows of each lid,
 And of doubts that wound her sore
 Our twin lives shall meet no more.
 Nay, my right and title this,
 That she gave me one shy kiss
 `Twixt the dawning and the day,
 Benediction on my way,
 When the vain world was asleep
 And no ear to hear us weep,
 And that once my fingers pressed
 The warm treasures of her breast,
 Just a moment, and the truth
 Learned of her close--hidden youth
 With its joys and sweetnesses
 Deep beyond all wit to guess,
 All but mine, and what might be
 Were she wholly joined with me.


 Such my title is and treasure,
 Such my glory beyond measure,
 Such my thought for the new years,
 Burdened with what doubts and fears,
 Yet one day to claim her mine.
 Here, beyond this shadowy Rhine,
 Far from her and journeying still,
 Feel I her young pulses thrill,
 Her warm body nestled close
 To my own with all its woes.
 And I know that some far hour
 I shall call to her with power,
 When the sun is fast in prison
 And the midnight stars have risen
 Clear and kind in a warm sky,
 And the shepherd`s hour is nigh,
 In a language she shall heed,
 ``Life is fleeting, love hath need.
 Time it is tears should not be.
 Come, my love, and dwell with me.``
 And I know that without stay,
 `Twixt the dawning and the day,
 When the vain world is asleep
 And no ear to hear her weep,
 She shall dry her tears and come;
 And we too through Christendom
 And beyond this shadowy Rhine,
 With its fields of corn and wine,
 And the snow--clad Alps and Rome,
 And the blue sea capped with foam,
 And far--famed Constantinople
 With its domes of pearl and opal,
 And the sea of Marmora,
 Where the dolphins sport and play,
 And the utmost isles of Greece
 Guarding still their golden fleece,
 As when Paris to them came
 With his Helen all aflame
 On their glorious honeymoon;
 And so on from noon to noon
 Journeying still and still beyond,
 Fond as they and yet more fond,
 To the ancient tearless East
 Shall be borne as to a feast,
 And sit down there our lives long,
 With Love`s silence for our song
 And Love`s guile for our disguise,
 While I teach her to be wise.
 And my title to her grace
 Shall the smiles be on her face,
 Her blue eyes, where no tears be,
 Being wholly joined with me.
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