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Edith Wharton

A Poem by Edith Wharton: Phaedra

  Phaedra NOT that on me the Cyprian fury fell, Last martyr of my love-ensanguined race; Not that my children drop the averted face When my name shames the silence; not that hell Holds me where nevermore his glance shall ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Non Dolet

Non Dolet! Age after age the fruit of knowledge falls To ashes on men’s lips; Love fails, faith sickens, like a dying tree Life sheds its dreams that no new spring recalls; The longed-for ships Come empty home or founder ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Mona Lisa

Mona Lisa Yon strange blue city crowns a scarped steep No mortal foot hath bloodlessly essayed: Dreams and illusions beacon from its keep. But at the gate an Angel bares his blade; And tales are told of those who thought ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Life

Life NAY, lift me to thy lips, Life, and once more Pour the wild music through me — I quivered in the reed-bed with my kind, Rooted in Lethe-bank, when at the dawn There came a groping shape of mystery ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Jade

Jade THE patient craftsman of the East who made His undulant dragons of the veined jade, And wound their sinuous volutes round the whole Pellucid green redundance of the bowl, Chiseled his subtle traceries with the same Keen stone he ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Happiness

Happiness THIS perfect love can find no words to say. What words are left, still sacred for our use, That have not suffered the sad world’s abuse, And figure forth a gladness dimmed and gray? Let us be silent still, ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Grief

Grief I On immemorial altitudes august Grief holds her high dominion. Bold the feet That climb unblenching to that stern retreat Whence, looking down, man knows himself but dust. There lie the mightiest passions, earthward thrust Beneath her regnant footstool, ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Experience

Experience I. LIKE Crusoe with the bootless gold we stand Upon the desert verge of death, and say: ‘What shall avail the woes of yesterday To buy to-morrow’s wisdom, in the land Whose currency is strange unto our hand? In ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Euryalus

Euryalus UPWARD we went by fields of asphodel, Leaving Ortygia’s moat-bound walls below; By orchards, where the wind-flowers’ drifted snow Lay lightly heaped upon the turf’s light swell; By gardens, whence upon the wayside fell Jasmine and rose in April’s ...

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A Poem by Edith Wharton : Chartres

Chartres I Immense, august, like some Titanic bloom, The mighty choir unfolds its lithic core, Petalled with panes of azure, gules and or, Splendidly lambent in the Gothic gloom, And stamened with keen flamelets that illume The pale high-alter. On ...

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