Adam Lindsay Gordon
They say that poison-sprinkled flowers
Are sweeter in perfume
Than when, untouched by deadly dew,
They glowed in early bloom.
They say that men condemned to die
Have quaffed the sweetened wine
With higher relish than the juice
Of the untampered vine.
They say that in the witch's song,
Though rude and harsh it be,
There blends a wild, mysterious strain
Of weirdest melody.
And I believe the devil's voice
Sinks deeper in our ear
Than any whisper sent from Heaven,
However sweet and clear.
Adam Lindsay Gordon's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Fragment by Adam Lindsay Gordon )
- Morning Coffee, Bill Grace
- Happenstance Things, Patti Masterman
- Loot-Hoot-Shoot, Aftab Alam
- The Children See Colors, Hebert Logerie
- Ulterior motive, hasmukh amathalal
- Fast Women Speedily Breathing, Luva Boy
- With contentment, hasmukh amathalal
- Not Mini-Apolis, Von Kimball Barney
- NO TIME WASTED, Peter LeBuhn
- Our World, Claude H Oliver II