Treasure Island

Richard Hovey

(1864-1900 / United States)

Laurana’s Song: For “A Lady of Venice”


WHO’LL have the crumpled pieces of a heart?
Let him take mine!
Who’ll give his whole of passion for a part,
And call ’t divine?
Who’ll have the soiled remainder of desire?
Who’ll warm his fingers at a burnt-out fire?
Who’ll drink the lees of love, and cast i’ the mire
The nobler wine?

Let him come here, and kiss me on the mouth,
And have his will!
Love dead and dry as summer in the South
When winds are still,
And all the leafage shrivels in the heat!
Let him come here and linger at my feet
Till he grow weary with the over-sweet,
And die, or kill.

Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Laurana’s Song: For “A Lady of Venice” by Richard Hovey )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. PH: Life: Growing Up, La! - Chapter 1, Brian Johnston
  2. UGLY MISSILES ARE STILL TARGETTING INNOC.., MOHAMMAD SKATI
  3. Roost, David Harris
  4. Tel Aviv on Amphetamines, Guy Shaked
  5. Tears Flow, Seinu Abdulgafar
  6. 'We Are All Michael Brown' Tanka, Chenou Liu
  7. Steal Away, Francie Lynch
  8. love1, andy pierce
  9. a little piddle, lee fones
  10. The Man Who Chased The Moon, Tanja Bulovic

Poem of the Day

poet Henry David Thoreau

My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]