OUR true hearts are forever lonely:
A wistfulness is in our thought:
Our lights are like the dawns which only
Seem bright to us and yet are not.

Something you see in me I wis not:
Another heart in you I guess:
A stranger’s lips—but thine I kiss not,
Erring in all my tenderness.

I sometimes think a mighty lover
Takes every burning kiss we give:
His lights are those which round us hover:
For him alone our lives we live.

Ah, sigh for us whose hearts unseeing
Point all their passionate love in vain,
And blinded in the joy of being,
Meet only when pain touches pain.

by George William Russell

Other poems of RUSSELL (171)

Comments (8)

the heart rising in its estate of peace as a boat rises with the rising of the water; - - - that is an effective metaphor for this long discussion of marriage and other alliances and unions
An institution or an enterprise? Maybe marriage is a game, as Moore plays with us here discussing various perspectives on the topic. I love the idea of thinking about what would marriage mean to Adam and Eve. Marriage is a social contract bearing on two individuals in their most personal relationship. What could it possible mean to two individuals outside of society? Moore walks around and around her subject pulling at various threads to see what will be revealed to us. Some aspects are positive but not all are as she circles the whole and then each of the individuals. Marriage is a complex arrangement and Moore comes to no definitive conclusions. It's an open-ended discussion, shining light on an integral part of our society as humans. Like a cubist paintings she attempts to show all sides at once and by doing so allows us to see the subject, not intentionally distorted, no that's not the intent, but laid out before us in a fresh way that we can appreciate both the beauty and the repugnance of something we've become overly familiar with and blindly accepting of. What you take away is solely up to you, but Moore's perspicaciousness and meticulous technique infuse the piece with a hard, multifaceted gem-like brilliance.
The strange experience of beauty! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Below the incandescent stars below the incandescent fruit, the strange experience of beauty; its existence is too much; it tears one to pieces and each fresh wave of consciousness is poison. Beautiful poem. Thanks for the sharing. 10+++ for it.
Nice one. Thanks for sharing.
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