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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
RESERVES, by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE First Line: As the spark flares red in the ember Last Line: Oh, let me swoon in death. Subject(s): Death; Love; Dead, The | |||
AS the spark flares red in the ember Before the flame has fled, So the leaves in late September Flash fire ere they are dead; Earth spurns the thought of sighing, But shouts through all her nerves And in the hour of dying Summons her rich reserves. Thus may it be when weakly Upon my bed I lie, I would not leave it meekly As babe or bird might die, But telling love's old story Fast with my falling breath, In rich reserves of glory Oh, let me swoon in death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND A MEMORY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |
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